The Squirrel Whisperer
8 a.m. rolled around this morning and I heard what I thought to be someone in the kitchen of my new apartment.
I was expecting my landlady... but not that early.
So I stumble into the kitchen, barely awake, hair akimbo, pajama bottoms still partially jammed into my rear - that's how awake I am.
But upon entering the kitchen, I realize there is no one there.... or was there?
There, just above the window valence, was a squirrel - A SQUIRREL - attempting to hide. Unfortunately for the squirrel, its big poofy-ass tail wouldn't get tucked down far enough - you know like when I child hides its front half, but its ass-end is hanging out.
We make eye contact.
It lays its round little ears back, much like a dog who has just shit on the rug. My ears don't lay back, but I imagine my face looked like the human version of this squirrel's.
Gasping, I duck back around the corner into the hall way.
What am I going to do?!
While formulating a plan, I use the conveniently mirrored switch plate to spy on the swishy, glassy-eyed critter.
I pick up and put on the clothing Quack had on last night, you know, to make sure none of my skin was exposed to the clawing and nibbling the squirrel was bound to afflict on me.
Using a flattened cardboard box as a shield, I approach the kitchen - again using the switch plate.
I finally muster up the courage to walk by the animal, grab some cheese out of the refrigerator, and open up the back door- which is only a foot behind him.
He hasn't moved since I first spotted him (about 15 mins. now) and I see how he got in.
There is a fan, which used to be used to ventilate the kitchen in the old days, that lead to the backyard. That freakin' thing had to be like a circus Welinda to get up to the fan. I can just imagine him springing from a branch, grabbing onto one of the ribbons of a near-by wreath, gaining momentum by swinging, and then, with a somersault, springing vertically into this little shoot - like a effing pinball.
So now the backdoor is open, the fan flap is fully open, and I have created a little trail of cheese leading to its freedom.
I can hear its furry friends click-clicking to it.
But it won't budge.
I am in the back yard, waiting for the damn thing to get the picture, and making sure no other squirrels get a bright idea, when I meet my neighbor for the first time.
She seems like a no-nonsense house mom, who armed with a broom, comes to what I think will be my rescue.
Man was I wrong.
Before I know it, she's swatting at this thing and the once petrified creature is now leaping around the kitchen.
"It's down! It's down!" She screams.
"Ahhhhh" I scream.
Of course the animal doesn't want to be shooed out the wide open door, it wants to go down into the basement.
The dark basement with a million hiding opportunities.
The neighbor chases the squirrel into the basement - broom in hand - and starts poking around.
She does this for a while, then abruptly says, "I have to drive my kid to band now. Good luck."
WTF.
I go upstairs and barricade the basement steps with boxes that we have, thankfully, not unpacked yet.
I open up the cellar door to the basement and try, once again, the trail o' cheese, leading out the door.
I am just about to loose my mind waiting for this freakin' squirrel to reveal itself when my self-described "nutty" landlady comes over.
She tells me some bizarro story about how she had a pet squirrel back in the day, who she would call to and it would eat food from her hand and sit on her shoulder.
She boldly enters the basement click-click-clickin' her tongue in that chattery way that squirrels have.
"Um. Were you raised in the woods?" I ask.
"Ha." she laughs. "No, they just like me because I'm nuts," she puns again.
She tells me to just hold still, so I press myself against the wall, clutching my fists in front of my face with bated breath.
"Click, Click, Clickity, CLICK, CLICK!" she says, prodding gently in corners and rafters with a broom.
After maybe five minutes, would you believe the frickin' squirrel came out from behind the bar(yes, there is bar in our basement!!) in response to the crazy clicking.
She ushered it towards the open cellar door and it was almost out, when it took a frantic detour into a crawl space just to the right of the door.
At this point the landlady and decide to let it be, because the door between the cellar and house was closed, and she said, "It's just scared. When it's ready it will let itself out."
So there may or may not be a squirrel chillin in my cellar. But that's good enough for me because I can avoid that place at all costs... that is until a circuit breaks, and then I will have to face the squirrel again - but this time, in the dark.
