Not quite reindeer

It's ironic. The very day I post about looking on the bright side of having rodents in house since they weren't in the kitchen, I find a rodent. In the kitchen.

I was making tea yesterday afternoon; the water was boiling and I opened the pantry door to get some teabags.

The moment I swung that door open I saw a HUGE gray thing-staring its beady eyes into mine. I screamed and blubbered for just an instant and in that very same instant the thing (still unidentified) sprang at me! I stepped back and not a moment too soon.




I couldn't believe a mouse could be THAT large. It was HUGE. I couldn't believe a mouse could fly! I couldn't move my body-I couldn't think straight. I looked down. It was a flying squirrel! I didn't know what to do! I scanned the kitchen for a box to trap it in while the squirrel scanned the kitchen for an escape route.

It ran left. I ran left to block it from leaving the kitchen.

It turned and headed right. I did too.

Left again.

Right again.

I was doing a dance with a squirrel in my KITCHEN of all things! I spied a box, under my desk that would work. But-how could I GET it without the squirrel speeding by? I thought for only a second before the squirrel found a hole under my cupboard and snuck through.

I tried to get it-but knew it was no use. He was in a place I just couldn't get to, no matter how hard I tried. So I tried to go about my business as usual. But my eyes darted about, scanning the area before I walked into any particular place.

The day was uneventful and eventually the night came round with no squirrels flying or crawling about. At least none that we saw. I knew I couldn't possibly hope that the squirrel had made its way outside. Besides, a whole FAMILY of squirrels are living in the walls...so even if it had gone out of the INSIDE of the house, it was resting comfortably in its home within our home.

I put the children to bed, having nearly forgotten about the incident, and had retreated to the only warm part of our house-the basement. Matt and I were talking when I heard Corynn scream bloody murder.



Uh-oh. We made our way upstairs. She was terrified. "There's a, a, a aminal in my room!" she wailed. And sure enough. It was back. Matt wanted to shoo it out of the room. Catching a squirrel was the LAST thing he wanted to do at 8:00 at night. I wanted to catch the darn thing and get it OUT of our lives for good. I knew the children wouldn't be able to sleep if we didn't and neither would I.



What were we to do? How were we going to catch a darting, flying squirrel?!? I grabbed a box that I had prepared myself with from the earlier kitchen incident. We moved the bins of clothing in the closet and there it was-huddled in the corner. I leapt at it with the box and VERY nearly enclosed it in the box. In fact, I got the tail in the box.

I had miscalculated just a TAD bit. If I had moved the box up just a few inches I would have captured the thing and been done with it. The rest of the night would have been less than dramatic. But NO. I had to eyeball it wrong. The box edge landed on the squirrels tail which freaked it out. Incidentally, the tail is so teeny that it slides right out from under a box. Just for future reference. Also for future reference...never be close in proximity (say: an arm's length) to a freaked out squirrel. Trust me on this.

That blasted freaked out squirrel hurled itself at me and landed on my shirt then scurried its awful little rodent body up my shirt and around my neck before I could swat it off with my hand.

Talk about the heebie jeebies!!! Ugh. Gross. If I think too long about it-I still feel that furry tail on my neck. Yuck. Stop. MUST STOP THINKING ABOUT IT.

After I had squealed, jumped up and down, and tried to get over what had just happened I knew that THIS squirrel had to go. And PRONTO. THIS squirrel had just declared war-and I was GOING to win.

I grabbed a toy and started hurling it around the squirrel like a mad woman. I didn't care if I hit it. I didn't care if it ran. I wanted it to run. Matt was armed with the box and as it scurried away from me, fearing for its life-Matt ensnared it with the box. We got it.

Since the squirrel lived in the walls and had somehow made its way inside, we knew that if we just tossed the sucker outside it would come again. And again. And again. Personally, I never want to have a self-flung squirrel climb up me ever again. EVER. AGAIN.

We tried to kill it. I won't tell you how. Would hate for nastygramsl to come just because I tried to kill a rodent. We thought it was dead. Matt took it outside and finally lifted the box and there was its still body.

But it was breathing. And then-as Matt stood in utter shock that it was still alive-it darted into the woods.

So that is my story of the the Flying squirrel. I can only hope, now that he has run away, that he doesn't come back tonight and take the revenge that he spent all night in the woods plotting.

If you never hear from me again, you'll know why.