Sunday, July 10, 2005

For fear of fur.

When I’m home alone for a few days, I’ve been known to occasionally freak out. I’m used to living in my randomly creaking house, but without someone else occupying the premises to blame the clatter on, I tend to get a bit paranoid. One night after hearing a bang downstairs while alone for the weekend, I scoured the house for burglars for half an hour with the base of a music stand in hand as an impromptu weapon only to find my alarms had been raised by the fall of a loose Plug-In air freshener.

My parents are currently away in California getting ready for my brother’s wedding, so this weekend was no different.

Well, a bit different.

I woke up yesterday morning to the sound of frantic scratching above my room. I figured some wild animal was touring the roof, and after a few swift hits to my ceiling, I went back to bed. A few hours later when I decided to get my ass out from under the sheets, I went to the bathroom and found the drop-down attic door had dropped down.

So I started thinking. What if that scratching hadn’t been on the roof? What if it was really coming from the attic? What if whatever animal had managed to get in there had fallen through the ceiling door and now was running about the house?

I began to freak out.

I searched the house for knocked over décor, paw prints in the carpet, or any other signs of animal intrusion. I couldn’t find anything out of order. So I gave up, called myself an idiot, and went to go take my shower.

I was out for the entire day and got home late that night. When I crossed the living room to go upstairs, I swore I heard wrestling behind the potted palm tree.

I began to freak out.

I stood there motionless. I didn’t want whatever was in the palm tree to go crazy and run up my pant leg. So I just stood there. And nothing happened. I started doubting my ears. What if it was just a dead leaf falling off the tree or something lame like that? Still, I was too scared to approach the haunted house plant, so I grabbed the nearest throw pillow and threw it straight into the palm tree.

And nothing happened.

So I gave up, called myself an idiot, and went up to bed.

This morning, I woke up and thought nothing of it as I went downstairs. As I reached the end of the staircase, I saw this.

I guess I should given my paranoia a bit more credit. I began to freak out.

I stood there motionless. I didn’t want the squirrel to go crazy and run up my underwear leg. So I just stood there. And it just stood there, huffing and jumping in an attempt to scare me off. After opening the front door to give the animal a way out, I tried giving huffing and jumping a shot too, but it proved as ineffective as the squirrel’s attempts. He wouldn’t leave the chair.

I needed back-up. I gave Deanry and Darrel a ring, and when they showed up we set up formation. Darrel would bang on the windows, scaring it from its perch. I’d stand in the dining room to make it go the other direction towards the door. Deanry would stand on the upstairs staircase in front of the front door to shoo it outside.

It didn’t quite work. The squirrel ran through an unguarded hole between the couches and made it into the dining room and deeper into the house.

After chasing it through the various rooms, we nearly got it out the front door, but the rodent decided to go behind the door instead of out of it. Deanry managed to scare it out, and as it scuttled across the doorway towards the living room again, he kicked it right out the door.

You can always count on Deanry’s ability to punt.

Now I must deal with the disgusting task of finding and cleaning up all the feces. Unfortunately, most creatures can’t go a full twenty-four hours without relieving themselves. And apparently, this squirrel needed a lot of relief. So far, I’ve found pellets strewn about in four rooms in addition to ground zero by the palm tree.

It could have been worse, though. At least he didn’t have a case of the runs.