MY HOUSE, Mich. – So, it’s been a bit of a strange morning. I woke up to a squirrel in my house.
Or, more accurately, I woke up to my wife screaming that there was a squirrel in the house.
- UPDATE (sadly): The squirrel (or something else) came back
- ANOTHER UPDATE --> The mystery has been solved. Click here to read the final part of this saga.
“Derick! Squirrel in the kitchen!”
Huh? Squirrels don’t belong in kitchens -- does not compute. I’m wide awake now, though. And plotting how to get something out of my house.
I know, I know, this has probably happened to many of you, and it’s no big deal. But, first timer here, cut me some slack! My squirrel exposure had been limited to walking past them on the sidewalk or in the yard growing up in Summerfield and Bedford townships. I thought it was a mutual understanding. We had a good thing going.
Anyway, my wife told me the squirrel was perched on the back of a chair in the kitchen, so I crept around the corner like Liam Neeson in Taken, armed with a thick blanket. What was my plan, to throw it over the squirrel and haul him outside? Look, I don’t know. I was improvising.
I see the kitchen table, all four chairs: No squirrel. Dang, that was my only lead.
The only other being in sight was my wife’s parents’ dog, who was passed out, completely oblivious to what was going on. I thought dog-sitting for the weekend at least came with a little extra security. Thanks a lot, Maizie. I hauled her upstairs for her own protection. (Or maybe to stall. Probably to stall.)
Wife upstairs. Dog upstairs. Thick blanket in hand. Time to do this.
As I turn the opposite way at the bottom of the steps (our main floor is one big circle), I’m telling myself, “OK, at some point, you’re gonna see a squirrel. In your house. You need to be prepared for that.”
Boom. Squirrel.
This guy was savvy. Although he had the element of surprise, I thought I would at least have the high ground. Nope. He had scurried up the side of our brick fireplace and was staring over at me from above the mantle.
My blanket plan was foiled (probably for the best). He had strategically positioned himself inches above a breakable vase. Was I willing to spend the day cleaning up glass shards to resolve this situation? Yes, yes I was. But that would be more of a last resort.
Since the squirrel had left the kitchen undefended, I went back around the other way and propped open the door to the backyard. Risky, I know: What if he had reinforcements standing by?
I ran back around and started inching toward him, banging on the wall with gloved fists, hoping he wouldn’t topple the vase on his way down.
It worked! Well, sort of. The squirrel bolted, down the fireplace, onto the floor, and out of sight toward the kitchen. Unfortunately, (as I found out a few moments later) he ran right past the door.
“Seriously?” Yes, I said this out loud. To a squirrel. I just thought him running outside was in the best interest of both parties. I wanted him out, and he didn’t seem to be feeling me all that much, either.
I approached from the other direction again and saw his bushy tail twitching underneath the kitchen table. I positioned myself so the squirrel was directly between me and the open door, and approached, stomping loudly.
He’d had enough, and careened straight out into the beautiful Michigan air.
I know what you’re thinking, but please, I’m no hero. Slamming the door shut felt good, but there was no victory lap. Because my mind went straight to...
How the heck did he get in?
All the doors had been shut tight, including those blocking the opening of our fireplace. I checked the door to the crawl space and walked around the basement -- no obvious signs that a squirrel had been there.
We were without power pretty much all day Thursday -- could that have had something to do with it? I have no idea. Again, this was my first time besting a squirrel in a battle of wits.
I decided it was time to hand things off to an expert. Honestly, I’m lucky to have gotten this far.
Anyways, the squirrel is free, my home is reclaimed, Maize is back asleep, and everyone else can laugh at the mental image of me creeping around with thick gloves and a blanket in search of a tiny animal.
You’re welcome. Happy Friday.
