Seriously this is my twisted luck. No one in the history of the world has luck like this… okay, a minor exaggeration. I’m sure one or two other people have had this kind of luck.
On this particular occasion it started off innocently enough. My husband was sleeping and my son was doing schoolwork while I ran into town to run some errands. Sounds simple right?
Oh, no, I’m not allowed that.
I was out approximately an hour when I returned I discovered my garage door was open. Apparently the one time I didn’t stick around to see if it closed, a leftover paranoid reaction from out last duty station, it didn’t close. Now, my neighbors leave theirs open for hours at a time. Hell, there were three others open as the following happened.
No, we didn’t get robbed. That would have been easy. No, I went inside and mentioned to my husband that my transmission, that I just got fixed in June or July, was messing up again and that he never renewed the warranty. So after yelling at my barely awake husband he agrees to try and renew it.
He comes back into the house to tell me there is a squirrel in the garage and to get it out.
Needless to say this didn’t go over well.
My son offered to ‘scare it out’. This involved a ten year old jumping through the garage and making loud noises while the door is open. My husband was convinced that it was chased out.
I kept badgering him about it. “Are you sure it’s gone? I’m not going to have a rabid squirrel try to eat me am I?”
After many annoying questions along that line he decides that if it’s still there Bill the Jack Russel will find it. Bill is a known killer. Bill is capable of treeing and killing turkeys. He was once lost in a badger hole for three days. If anyone could find it Bill could.
I knew immediately that he had a scent. I recognized the sniff from when we hide his ball. I rapidly escaped the hood of my car and go back inside. Soon after I hear “Bill! No, boy! Get me the leash!”
I scrambled to get the leash listening to a massacre. I could hear Bill bark a high pitched hunting yelp. Boxes were being thrown against walls as a terrified sharp squeak echoed through the confined room. The walls sounded as if they were being torn through.
Tossing the leash to my husband through a narrow gap in the door I slammed it shut and ran around the front of the house. The garage door was open and my husband finally got Bill on a leash. From here things get worse.
I hate rodents; not just squirrels and rats but even bunnies. They’re disease infested destructive menaces. Bunnies are okay in pet shop windows. Chipmunks are okay on some distant branch. I absolutely won’t stand them near me, especially in my house! The garage is part of my house, it’s even where I stored the extra cereal I bought.
I hovered around the garage door not really being helpful but needing to make sure the vermin was actually gone. Bill was not happy to be pulled off his prey. My husband had to actually utilize his tail for what it was, a handle. He had come far closer to the rodent than I approved of. He had it’s tail in his mouth and was trying to fit the rest of it in there when my husband grabbed him.
He cleared a path for it and slowly eased the leash to allow Bill to scare it out. It was a good plan if the squirrel in question wasn’t an idiot. It darted from the far back of the garage to the door… only to hide in the recess just inches away from the opening to freedom.
I was no where near that side of the door. I was on the other side of the door around the middle of the driveway next to the other car; having visions of a terrified squirrel clawing me to death.
Once again a path is cleared but a flaw was left. While the path was cleared to freedom the other paths were left open. Sure enough this time Bill’s leash was loosed the squirrel took off… under my car.
At this time I was closer to panicking then when I had visions of being clawed to death. My poor 200 convertible was already having a second round of transmission problems. It did not need a squirrel in it’s engine!
I insisted my husband call housing and get maintenance out here. Surely a squirrel in an engine, of a car I had to drive in an hour, was an emergency? Of course it wasn’t. They took our info then promptly told us it wasn’t their problem and good luck. Yeah, so my luck.
Bill is loosed yet again to try to scare the squirrel out. Only he got stuck. Eventually he got out and the squirrel somehow ended up in between my hubcap and lug nuts.
For those of you who know cars better than I do you’ll see the problem with my next idea.
I was going to very quickly run to my car, jump inside before I could get bitten or the squirrel end up in my car, and move the car into the driveway. From here the rodent from hell could escape at his leisure, assuming his leisure was within the next hour.
I killed it.
Yup, apparently there is something sharp in my tire, wheel, whatever, that killed the horrid thing. Now, some of you, like my husband, are probably thinking; problem solved. Oh, no, you see while I hate rodents I’m terrified of dead things. Terrified. I won’t even eat meat that still looks like an animal. I start picturing germs and gasses and rigor mortis. I have visions of decomposers feasting on it. It isn’t pretty. It involves me screaming and running and refusing to come out of my hiddy hole until all traces are removed.
My husband took pics of the thing to share. I will not be posting them thank you very much! This left a rather large problem. I had a dead squirrel in my tire. I also had to take my son to art class in less an hour. While I felt bad for the squirrel I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t intend to kill it after all.
I managed to convince my husband to drive my car while I took his. His plan was that since he taught in the middle of no where, the coyotes and other animals will eat it out of my tire. I really didn’t care. At least this way it wasn’t going to waste and I hate waste; my husband’s idea of squirrel spaghetti wasn’t appreciated.
I told my husband that my luck would involve the damn thing falling out in the driveway and preventing me from leaving my house. He assured me it wouldn’t happen.
It fell out at the end of the driveway instead.
Yeah, that’s my kinda luck.