(10:40p.m. edit)  You must check out the ecard my mom sent, it is hiLARious!!  Try clicking on this.

Tom & Tammy got quite the kick out of my squirrel crisis this evening.  But I wanted to share my own version of the saga.  With pictures.

The Killing at Kenmare
(not for the squeamish - mom, that means you)

Oh, the squirrel. 
Such a cute, fuzzy creature as it scampers over the ground & soars from limb to limb.
But when a squirrel enters the most sacred of places - your home - he ceases to be cute.


The squirrel is now evil.  Deadly force must be employed.

Michelle first noticed our squirrel yesterday.  Now, granted, we've had squirrels in our attic (akin to bats in one's belfry) for awhile.  Last fall, Casey the Squirrel Guy, who, incidentally, could not spell "squirrel," set up a trap to catch the critters as they came out of the attic.  It was like a miniature bear trap, and when an unwitting rodent wandered out of the attic to bask in the sunshine, it snapped his little neck & he dangled on a tiny metal noose over the side of the house.  You might think this is cruel, but you probably don't have squirrels playing tag in your walls.  And squirrels talk.  A lot.

Chitter!  Chatter!

Anyway, Casey the Squirrel Guy caught many squirrels.  And then one day, Casey the Squirrel Guy didn't come back.  Oh ho, but the squirrels did.  But being busy students, we ignored the problem.  See, the squirrels had been content to ransack our attic and walls, until yesterday when one broke the seal and entered "the Inside."

Squirrels talk about "the Inside" as if it were a myth.  Kind of like the Bermuda Triangle.
"Hey Vinny, where'd your cousin Vito go?"
"He went to the "Inside," and we never saw him again."

This is Vito's story.
Squirrels are curious creatures.  When not amusing themselves by throwing acorns at innocent passers-by, they play hari kari in front of moving traffic
to see how many accidents they can cause.

 
Vito, however, was even more curious than most.  He dreamed about the Inside, and was determined to make it there and come back to tell the story.  So one day, as his cousin Vinny was kicked back with a cigarette in the Kenmare attic, Vito made a bet: "I bet I can get Inside, and come back out."
"Yeah?" Vinny said.
"Yeah."  Vito replied.  And with that, he scampered off to find a hole.  Vito made it.  For over 24 hours he stealthily crept through the house, breaking candle holders, peeing on bedspreads, pulling curtains rods down, and leaving little squirrelly poop treasures everywhere he went.  Michelle confirmed his presence last night: when she walked into her room, Vito ran out.  At first she thought it was a hallucination, but she confirmed the reality when she saw his puffy tail disappearing down the stairs.

But Vito had a problem.  He couldn't figure out how to get out.  "I need to get back to my cousin Vinny!"  Vito worried.  He camped out in the guest room, mistakenly considering himself an invitee of sorts.  I caught him there this afternoon. 
Immediately, I called Tom.

"The squirrel!  It's in the guest room!"
"Take a deep breath, do you think you could try to herd him out?"
"Um, no?"

So I shut every door but the office, which doesn't have a door at all, & left the door to my bedroom open, where I also opened the door to the balcony.  I set suitcases in front of the stairway so Vito wouldn't try to escape to the basement.  Then I laid a trail of Oatmeal Squares from the guest room to the balcony door (hey, what was I supposed to do, I don't have squirrel snacks laying around the house!).  But Vito was a-hiding.  With much trepidation, I tiptoed into the guest room and stepped onto the bed (to avoid Vito running over my feet as he exited).  I looked here, I looked there, no Vito.  I leaned over to see if he was behind the bed - but HOLY CRAP!!  He was right below me!! In between the mattress and the headboard - he was caught -
and we weren't sure which one of us was more distraught. 
I shrieked, Vito made a break for it, right past me on the bed.

Vito ran like the wind.  Into the office. 

He frantically ran up onto our desks, where I got a picture of him peeking at me over my basket.  Desperately, I threw an Oatmeal Square into the room, trying to both: a) calm him down, and b) take another picture.  Vito was having none of it.  Sensing the standoff, Vito proved to be the braver of us two - gathering his strength, he ran.  Straight. At. Me.  I let out a blood curdling scream which left both of us temporarily deaf.  Rather than looking to his left, where freedom awaited, he looked to his right, and squeezed past the suitcases.  Vito made it to the basement.  He would never see the sunshine again.

At that point, I knew I needed back-up.  Michelle, who knew of the situation, had alerted my landlord, who up until the meth bust a few weeks ago, could have cared less about our rodent problem.  Now, though, she was concerned. 

Landlord Plan #1: A bug bomb. 
It would drug the squirrel so we could take him outside. 
But, um, what if it kills him and we can't find him and he starts to decompose in the walls?
Good point, Dionna.

Landlord Plan #2: Send Phil, the maintenance man over to close the vents. 
Great.  But what about Vito? 
Good point, Dionna.

Landlord Plan #3: Call Casey the Squirrel Guy. 
Yusssss. 
Casey was called, Casey announced he was coming over.  With his dog.  Michelle said, "Don't let the dog poop in the house."

Critter Control to the rescue!!

Patiently, I waited for Casey to visit.  I was up in my bedroom (balcony still wide open - oh, freedom!) when I heard voices downstairs.  I saw Casey at the top of the basement stairs, he asked, "You think he's down here?"

"Yes," I said, "See the squirrelly  poop treasures on the stairs?"
He saw.
Not sure what to expect, I followed him down to the basement. 
"I thought the landlord said you were bringing a dog." 
"I did."
"Is it outside?"
"No, look."  Casey pointed.
This is what I saw:

Meet Doc, the Super Squirrel Killer Extraordinaire.  Now, friends, this might not be apparent from the picture, but this is a weiner dog.  I laughed hysterically. 
I ran upstairs to call Tom.  A weiner dog?  To catch a squirrel? 
What was he going to do, throw the dog at Vito?

In the time it took me to go upstairs, call two people, and walk back downstairs, Doc the Super Squirrel Killer Extraordinaire, went to work.  As Casey urged him on, saying, "Hunt for it, hunt for it Doc," Doc worked his magic.

He sniffed this way and that.  And as Casey explained, "as soon as the squirrel hits the ground, he's in trouble." 
No less than five minutes had passed.  This is what I walked down to the second time:

Vito!  Was dead!!  Oh, poor Vito.

Paul & Doc celebrated.  I apologized to Doc for my earlier doubts.

As Casey the Squirrel Guy and Doc the Super Squirrel Killer Extraordinaire walked off into the sunset, Vito dangling between them, I shed a tear for that darn rodent.
He was a brave, yet stupid, little guy.

Vito the Squirrel: 2004-2005
R.I.P.