Sunday, November 27, 2005

Thanksgiving 2005: The Year of the Squirrel

The night before he was headed out to North Carolina to meet up with my mom (who was there visiting already) and sister for the weekend, my dad heard some rustling and scurrying about in the walls of our attic. He did some quick internet research and learned that sometimes unwelcome critters can be scared away by loud music. My dad, quite the quick-thinking exterminator type (wait no), set up a radio to play in the room all weekend while he was out of town. Upon hearing of my dad's genius plan my mom sighed. The neighbor's house is literally an arms-length away from our Chicago bungalow and the Grandma next door had been on her deathbed recently after suffering from a stroke. Grandma Neighbor's bedroom just so happened to be directly next to that which is our attic-side, presumably a few feet apart from where my dad left his rock concert blaring for the weekend. "You better hope it's not loud," my mom said, "Poor Grandma Next-Door Neighbor." When my parents returned to Chicago, there was one message on the answering machine, from the neighbor. The Grandma had died. Seeing as my family has a passion for making tasteless jokes we now like to claim that my father has taken his first life as a result of the classic rock station he let flow in his absence.


Needless to say, the rock music plan failed and the critter was still there and ornery. My mom banged on the wall and the critter went, "EEEEEEEE." Mom and dad headed outside to see where the thing was getting in the attic and discovered a fat squirrel working it's way underneath the peak of our roof, but they couldn't fix it without getting the dang squirrel out first. Mind you, I was going home in a day for Thanksgiving and was not really thrilled about sleeping down the hall from a loud furry animal. So my dad borrowed a squirrel trap from a neighbor, opened up the trapdoor in the ceiling of an upstairs closet and set it up in that part of the attic. He put some peanut butter and peanuts in the trap and still insisted on playing the rock music for Squirrel.


Day one watch brought nothing- the trap was set off but housed no furry friend. The next day was Thanksgiving and I was helping my mom mash some potatoes when I heard my dad exclaim, "WE GOT A LIVE ONE UP HERE!" He caught the squirrel but it apparently was going nuts (no pun intended), all biting on the metal cage. My Dad had no idea how the hell he was going to grab the cage containing a rabid, pissed-off squirrel while standing on a ladder and pull it through a ceiling door definitely not wide enough without maneuvering it on an angle. So my mom and I had a mini freak out because we know this crazy squirrel has got to somehow come through this kitchen to get outside. Even caged, it was mildly frightening. So my Dad evaluated the scenario for a bit and, sporting some big mountain man gloves, prepared to grab the cage, rotate it, hope to god none of the doors open, and take it right on outside. The plan worked seamlessly. We had a crazy screaming squirrel in a cage making it's way through our kitchen where Thanksgiving dinner was being prepared.


My dad took it right into the garage and left it there overnight because my mom read that a squirrel can find its way back to the last habitat for up to 35 miles. So they made up their mind to not let it interrupt the Thanksgiving feast and instead deal with it the following day. (I think things like this actually sometimes get my dad excited in that he gets to illustrate his man abilities in a house with three women. He even put one of the shelled peanuts in his pocket and took it out while relaying the story about how he caught the animal to our relatives upon their arrival.)


The next day after shopping and a little Christmas decorating, my mom and dad drove 35 miles away to set the squirrel free into the wild. I said they better have fed that thing, cause I sure as hell would not want to make a car journey with a disgruntled and hungry trapped rodent with a furry tail. What if that thing got loose in the car? Sick. So my mom and dad drove over 40 miles away (just to be safe) in a blinding snow with unplowed and unsalted roads going 25 miles an hour to some wooded area of Gurnee. Finally they found a spot they think will work and pulled over into the woods to set it free. It was dark, they were in the middle of nowhere and my dad was pretty freaked at having to open the cage. He finally opened one side and the squirrel didn’t budge. So he opened both sides and shooed it out into the wilderness. Mission accomplished.


My mom, who had been taking shelter in the car for fear of being bit in the eye by the pissed off squirrel, rolled down the window to see where it went but both of them had no idea. So they shrugged their shoulders and loaded the cage back in the car. My dad put the car in reverse, backed up, and they both heard a loud THUMP. "You've got to be kidding me," my parents said, exchanging looks. My dad drove forward and got out. Yep, backed right up over the damn squirrel after all that.


To top it off, the next day my dad saw two more squirrels scurry in the attic before they could get someone to come out and fix the roof so they are back to square one.