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Feb. 14th, 2003 11:44 pmsquirrels make penguin like noises when they're scared. squirrels that have been in the chimney not too long ago get quite scared. though their jumping ability isn't necessarily impaired.
When I came downstairs this morning, the dogs were sitting in a half circle on the floor staring at the place where the chimney to the stove would be attached, now covered with a dogfood bowl (it fits perfectly. My mother listens, and hears something in it. When she pulls the bowl out, we can hear sort of a coo, or maybe a gronk. My mother decided it was a penguin. I was reserving judgment. We locked the cats upstairs and went off to run our errands (in addition to the planned errands we petted a poodle now owned by the woman at the used clothing store--I would get a mini now, I think, cause he's really cute. And rufus is cute too, if totally ridiculous--and bought a canary because the pet store had an male orange Roller. Oh can he sing. And we have three females already, so my mom's so excited. lots and lots of canary babies. I didn't get the MP3 player I wanted, but I found a copy of "Drive me Crazy" for only $7, and bought "While you were Sleeping" as well because I could. THey didn't have Strictly Ballroom, which I"m still bitter about.) I come inside, and something leaps off the counter and dashes across the floor. I think 'bad cat!" and then remember they're locked upstairs. And I look towards the living room in time to see a small grey blur with a fluffy tail. Squirrel!
I love squirrels. I realize they're just rats with fluffy tails (my dad saw two fighting over a dead sparrow once), but I love them. THey have sweet faces, and fluffy tail, and the dearest little paws and cute ears. I love them. I used to feed the ones at K and once had one climb my pant leg because I was holding the food out of his reach (I was holding it at cat height, not teasing). I chirrup at the ones I see on my walk to work, and kiss as well (Chirrups make them talk back, kisses make them chitter, and lash their tails around because I'm really saying something rude about their moms.).
So apparently we'd had squirrels in the chimney. One trashed the room pretty well--all the little plants were knocked off the windowsill over the sink, a couple off one of the other windowsills. he was active--hid behind the big chair, and when we pulled that out, behind the little bookshelf, which he climbed up over, and then up the heating pipes, and then he hid in the cactus on the little shelf in the window when my mom went to get a net. We very carefully put the cactus that were up there on the ground and cornered him, where upon he bolted for freedom, which included jumping from there onto my shoulder. I shrieked and jumped, and he fell off and ran into the kitchen. Which actually made much more sense, as there are fewer things to hide under. he got a little panicked, dove into the dog cage and wiggled out through the bars. I meanwhile had opened the door to outside, and he made it out okay. We put the living room back together, and I go back to trying to figure out where the hell my mother put the little fabric pieces my grandmother sewed for her. My mom's at the computer, and the puppies are eating. We suddenly hear a chattering noise. All dogs get ushered out of the living room, the front door gets opened, and the usual tools--a poking stick and a flashlight are procured. The squirrel was finally located behind the radiator, wedged behind a screen. This one was older and wiser, and stayed perfectly still, even through the removal of the screen and the poking. He finally bolted towards the door, made a right-paw turn, and headed farther into the living room. He dove under the trunk and made his way under the radiator behind it. He hid there and *would* *not* come out. Even with the poking, and the addition of a spray bottle, there was no movement. Finally with a rake to poke with we chased him into my brother's fishing net and managed to get him outside. And then we cleaned up after *him* and put the room back together.
When I came downstairs this morning, the dogs were sitting in a half circle on the floor staring at the place where the chimney to the stove would be attached, now covered with a dogfood bowl (it fits perfectly. My mother listens, and hears something in it. When she pulls the bowl out, we can hear sort of a coo, or maybe a gronk. My mother decided it was a penguin. I was reserving judgment. We locked the cats upstairs and went off to run our errands (in addition to the planned errands we petted a poodle now owned by the woman at the used clothing store--I would get a mini now, I think, cause he's really cute. And rufus is cute too, if totally ridiculous--and bought a canary because the pet store had an male orange Roller. Oh can he sing. And we have three females already, so my mom's so excited. lots and lots of canary babies. I didn't get the MP3 player I wanted, but I found a copy of "Drive me Crazy" for only $7, and bought "While you were Sleeping" as well because I could. THey didn't have Strictly Ballroom, which I"m still bitter about.) I come inside, and something leaps off the counter and dashes across the floor. I think 'bad cat!" and then remember they're locked upstairs. And I look towards the living room in time to see a small grey blur with a fluffy tail. Squirrel!
I love squirrels. I realize they're just rats with fluffy tails (my dad saw two fighting over a dead sparrow once), but I love them. THey have sweet faces, and fluffy tail, and the dearest little paws and cute ears. I love them. I used to feed the ones at K and once had one climb my pant leg because I was holding the food out of his reach (I was holding it at cat height, not teasing). I chirrup at the ones I see on my walk to work, and kiss as well (Chirrups make them talk back, kisses make them chitter, and lash their tails around because I'm really saying something rude about their moms.).
So apparently we'd had squirrels in the chimney. One trashed the room pretty well--all the little plants were knocked off the windowsill over the sink, a couple off one of the other windowsills. he was active--hid behind the big chair, and when we pulled that out, behind the little bookshelf, which he climbed up over, and then up the heating pipes, and then he hid in the cactus on the little shelf in the window when my mom went to get a net. We very carefully put the cactus that were up there on the ground and cornered him, where upon he bolted for freedom, which included jumping from there onto my shoulder. I shrieked and jumped, and he fell off and ran into the kitchen. Which actually made much more sense, as there are fewer things to hide under. he got a little panicked, dove into the dog cage and wiggled out through the bars. I meanwhile had opened the door to outside, and he made it out okay. We put the living room back together, and I go back to trying to figure out where the hell my mother put the little fabric pieces my grandmother sewed for her. My mom's at the computer, and the puppies are eating. We suddenly hear a chattering noise. All dogs get ushered out of the living room, the front door gets opened, and the usual tools--a poking stick and a flashlight are procured. The squirrel was finally located behind the radiator, wedged behind a screen. This one was older and wiser, and stayed perfectly still, even through the removal of the screen and the poking. He finally bolted towards the door, made a right-paw turn, and headed farther into the living room. He dove under the trunk and made his way under the radiator behind it. He hid there and *would* *not* come out. Even with the poking, and the addition of a spray bottle, there was no movement. Finally with a rake to poke with we chased him into my brother's fishing net and managed to get him outside. And then we cleaned up after *him* and put the room back together.
