Home Invasion

We've now had a squirrel in our house, not once, but twice. The first time was about eight years ago when we returned from our Make-a-Wish trip to Disney World. The second time was this past weekend.

This weekend's squirrel was not just any squirrel, however. This squirrel was vicious. It was rude. It was loud and obnoxious. And it looked like this:

Yes, it was a squirrel on steroids. I told you it was nasty.

This squirrel had a plan. I know it did, because it snuck in sometime during the night, and we all know squirrels are not nocturnal, so there's proof right there. Not only that, but we have no idea how the damn varmint got into our house. The first squirrel many years ago got in through the fireplace. It actually shoved the grate out of the way. It probably had steroids running through its system as well, but I can't show you a picture of it because we were in Florida, eating turkey legs and pretending to have fun.

Anyway, this squirrel, this squirrel entered the safety of our home under the cloak of darkness, stealthily making its way past sleeping boys on the living room floor, who were having a rather non-descript sleepover until that point. It looked a lot like Mannix.

It then somehow scooted around our house, surreptitiously scoping the place out, until Gryphon, our angry guard dog, took notice of it. Then all hell broke loose.

Gryphon The Angry Guard Dog started to whine his terrible, nasal, and very scary whine. And he was locked up in his crate for the night because there was a sleepover happening, and if he were not locked up in his crate, he would have spent the night humping the boys. Seriously. That's what he does. Don't worry. It's not a weird sex thing we have going on here. It's a dominance issue.

So, because Gryphon The Angry Guard Dog could not race around after the Steroidal Squirrel and give it a run for its proverbial money, he whined pathetically and made much noise in his crate, thereby eventually waking up "Dennis". And, when Gryphon whines, you'd better take note. Because if Gryphon is anything, he's a force to be reckoned with when he's upset.

I think you see what I mean.

Meanwhile, Steve the Steroidal Squirrel sat back and laughed heartily at all that was going on because of little old him. And he continued making noise to aggravate Gryphon The Angry Guard Dog more and more. First, he took out what seemed to be a miniature banjo and played "Muskrat Love", an all-time favourite...

...and when that wasn't doing the trick, he pulled out the bagpipes, which is sure to get even the most sedate dog's knickers all up in a tight knot:

Dennis, after spending a lot of time swearing at the dog and trying to figure out why he was sleeping on the floor in the living room, noticed this black rodent in his midst, and he freaked out. Yes, Steve The Steroidal Squirrel pulled out the big guns.

Dennis came running into my and Mr. Handsome's bedroom, our Haven of Heaven, and woke us out of a very deep and rare sleep, exclaiming, "Th-th-there's a s-s-squirrel in the house!"

Mr. Handsome then asked Dennis what he was talking about. Because seriously, how often do you hear those words? Then Mr. Handsome asked Dennis if he was actually awake, and not sleepwalking, as Dennis often does, mumbling very strange and abnormal things in his sleep as he wanders through the house with glazed eyes. It's not unlikely to hear Dennis yell out in the middle of the night, "No, Mommy, don't make me eat that meatloaf!" Whatever.

So, once it was established that Dennis was actually awake, and not dreaming about squirrels on steroids, I proceeded to close my eyes again and try to go back to sleep because I knew that Mr. Handsome would take care of things, as he always does.

Of course, I couldn't go back to sleep, because the racket that ensued for the next hour was beyond belief. There was banging of walls, pounding of floors, screaming of voices.

Then, Mr. Handsome came back to bed. I asked him if he had caught the little varmint. "Can't find him," he replied, and then rapidly resumed snoring.

Okay then, I thought to myself. I guess the worst case scenario is we can introduce Steve The Steroidal Squirrel to Furry and Mo, our guinea pigs, and maybe they can be friends. Or maybe Steve The Steroidal Squirrel will have a all-out cage fight with the piggies, and we could sell tickets. I think I could be on to something here...

Anyway, eventually Mr. Handsome got out of bed again to check out the situation, because that's the kind of guy I married. Meanwhile, I picked my toes and turned over in bed.

And the search for the Steroidal Squirrel ensued, with more banging of walls, pounding of floors, swearing of words, and screaming of, "There it is!! There it is! Now it's gone."

At one point, Steve The Steroidal Squirrel was perched on Dennis' nightstand, looking forlornly out the window at the trees and the snow beckoning him, beckoning him back to his homeland.

The squirrel was now trapped in Dennis' bedroom, so Mr. Handsome, because he is so rugged and manly, decided to take apart Dennis' bed and throw it out into the hallway so that the squirrel would have nowhere to hide. So, then we had a hallway filled to the brim with bed, clothing, and three years' worth of crap that Dennis threw under his bed to hide it instead of actually putting things away properly.

After another hour-and-a-half of squirrel battles, Mr. Handsome finally caught the little bugger. Steve the Steroidal Squirrel was jumping madly about in a corner of Dennis' room, where his hockey bag and a couple dozen bags of garbage live. And Mr. Handsome, being deft at everything he does, kept trying to catch the rodent, but alas, could not. But he did not give up. Oh no, not Mr. Handsome. After all, he married me, didn't he?

Then, suddenly, as if the squirrel gods came down from above to lend a helping hand, Steve jumped into a rolled-up poster that lay on Dennis' desk. And Mr. Handsome, because he is so smart and witty, knew he finally had the little rodent but good. Oh yes he did. He took hold of both ends of that poster, and like the man he is, he squeezed the ends tightly, so that Steve could not get out.

And then he gently brought Steve downstairs and let him back out into the blustery cold wilderness again. And Steve turned around and looked at Mr. Handsome.

Once I determined the place was once again safe, I got out of bed and made myself a cup of coffee, which I desperately needed after all that commotion. And then I took a nap because the stress was killing me.

I still haven't gotten over it. I may have to take the rest of this week off to recover. I'll let you know.