Cute, fluffy-tailed rodents frequently featured in commercials are destructive pests and need their population controlled.
I want to take up squirrel hunting with a vengeance.
Roots of this fact-backed vendetta date to teenage years when, while climbing around in a dark attic, squirrels attacked. Scampering backward out of the attic entrance, I bumped my head.
Dad called exterminators. He repaired holes the vermin chewed in stately, two-story Adams’ Manor on Pleasant Drive in Pleasant Grove subdivision of Dallas.
The whole affair turned entirely unpleasant because while the rodents’ antics amused us in the huge oak trees out back, bringing the perpetual party inside meant chewed electrical wiring and a chance of fire as well as the disturbing noises above.
Later, a favorite writer of mine would detail some of his experiences with squirrels that I thought mostly made up.
Over at John Shore’s blog, he has an entry about threatening squirrels out in California. Okay – change that to squirrels that threatened him in California.
As usual, his entry amused.
Later, in a brief exchange of e-mails (Shore’s a busy, prolific writer) we were ha-ha lol over the squirrels as my son borrowed from the blog entry to describe a tween terrified by squirrels on her way home from school. He wrote a nice little story with the goal of making readers sympathize with a snotty little girl.
Again, I was proud of my son’s writing and helped him work in real-life events regarding an acorn shortage in Northern Virginia and the resulting aggressive squirrel population. But it was still a “News of the Weird” item that didn’t really mean much more than chuckles.
Well, now I hate the nasty little rodents and may well kill some just for sport – following up by hanging their tails off my Jeep’s antenna.
Fall of 2008, I came out of work one brisk day to my Jeep where I saw leaves spilling out of the engine compartment.
“Ha-ha” I laughed sarcastically thinking someone had pranked me. I cleaned the leaves out.
Shortly after on the drive home, the Jeep shook violently as I sped up.
Lack of funds meant limping to my tax return this February before taking it to a mechanic.
The diagnosis – a squirrel climbed into my engine compartment and literally ate the fuel injection line to one of my cylinders flush to the engine. Mechanics estimate to replace the part will cost $1,500 – not including labor.
Shore’s funny anecdotes help ease the pain, but really the squirrels are out of control and the running gag now makes me want to choke – preferably a fluffy-tailed rodent.