“We can do that; we don’t even have to have a reason.”*

* Carl Spackler in “Caddyshack.”

Yes, of course there is a Part 2 to our Killer Squirrel story.  Duh.  Do you think I’d let that one slide into oblivion?

While I was snorting and laughing at y’all’s comments the other day, Pete was sitting at the computer next to mine actually doing REAL research on the matter.  And I don’t mean watching Monty Python clips on YouTube (that was me).  He found something called Critter Ridder, which is supposed to repel squirrels (and other unwanted furry guests) without harming them.  Probably because Critter Ridder contains a lot of spicy hot peppers.

Since I was going to the hardware store anyway, I picked up a bottle of Critter Ridder.  Like the good Eco Warrior that I am, I asked the cashier not to bag the bottle, as I didn’t need another plastic bag.  Silly me.  OF COURSE Graceful saw the bottle and started asking questions.  If I had told her that we had a squirrel in the attic, she wouldn’t have slept a wink last night and would instead have begged to check into a hotel, so I was vague and said only that her daddy was working on a project.

So then the next issue was, who was going to go up in the attic and what would HE find when he went up there?

Now I’m going to pause this story for two flashbacks.  Hopefully, Pete will actually agree to letting me tell these stories, because I haven’t actually asked yet.

FLASHBACK 1 — “It’s in the hole!”  — Carl Spackler

The first house we owned wasn’t very well built.  Cute, but about as well constructed as a house of cards.  It was so cold in the winter that we kept an electric blanket on the sofa and our guests sometimes wore their heavy coats while visiting us.

One year, Pete decided to lay more insulation up in the attic.  I was puttering around downstairs when I heard a strange noise and sort of heard Pete saying something from the far-away recesses of the attic. I walked around the corner and looked upstairs.

What greeted me was my husband’s ass poking through the ceiling of the upstairs hallway.  Apparently, he’d been squatting on some joists and had fallen backwards between the joists and down through the ceiling.

Yep, so there he was, holding on for dear life.  Did I rush upstairs to help him?  Oh no, I was too busy simultaneously laughing my head off AND shrieking, “Oh my god!  Oh my god!  What should I do?” while flapping my hands uselessly and running around in circles.

Eventually, Pete got himself out of the attic and we then lived with an ass-sized hole for several days until Pete started the laborious process of patching things up.

FLASHBACK 2 — “In the immortal words of Jean Paul Sartre, ‘au revoir gopher’ ” — Carl Spackler

Same house, different year.

One spring morning at around 5:30, we were asleep in our beds when we were rudely awakened by the sound of a jackhammer right above our heads.  After jerking awake and feeling our hearts nearly explode from our chests, we heard it again.  And again.  Then it stopped.

The next morning, same thing.  Ditto the following morning and the one after that.  And so on, for a couple of weeks.  Always at 5:30 in the morning.

We quickly realized that we were dealing with a woodpecker.  A horny one who was using the gutter outside our bedroom windows to send his mating call far and wide to all the eligible lady woodpeckers in the neighborhood.  We were not at all charmed at Woody Woodpecker’s attempts to get some and started plotting ways to send him off.

One day Pete came home with a smug grin on his face.  He had gone to KMart and bought a gun.  Actually, it was a BB gun and not a very powerful one at that.  Frankly, spitballs shot from a straw had more power and velocity.  But Pete was a man with a mission and that mission was to sleep until at least 7:00 every morning.

Pete prepared his gun and set it next to the bedroom window.  When our feathered little horndog woke us up, Pete sprang from bed, threw open the windows, and started firing away — while wearing only his underwear.  It was really a humorous scene and I supported my husband by mocking him mercilessly from the warmth of our bed.

Just to set your minds at ease, no woodpeckers were hurt and Pete’s intent was never to harm the bird, just stop it from mating with our gutters.  The bird flew off before Pete even had his nose out the window.  It took a few days, but eventually the bird realized that Jenworld #1 was really the Heartbreak Hotel and he flew off to find another bordello.

BACK TO THE PRESENT –  “I got to get into this dude’s pelt and crawl around for a few days.  Who’s the gopher’s ally?  His friends.  The harmless squirrel and the friendly rabbit.”  — Carl Spackler

So, getting back to my main story, can you imagine what was going through my mind when my husband, the Squirrel Hunter, gathered his supplies to seek out his prey?

Here’s his exact list, which he taped to the kitchen cabinet:

Squirrel

repellent

gloves

drill

screws

broom/stick

flashlight

fluor. bulb

mask

Can you envision his plan of attack?

*MY* supply list was this:

camera

Yep, that’s it.  My entire plan was to stand at the bottom of the ladder and offer support by taking photos to be used on this blog.  I’m such a good wife.

The plan also included careful timing.  Pete was going to come home from work and do the deed immediately, while it was still light outside and while it was still hot and stuffy in the attic.  According to his research, there shouldn’t have been any squirrels in the attic, as it would have been too uncomfortable for them.

Operating on the assumption that the squirrel had been seeking a dark hidey hole, Pete had also turned the attic light on yesterday morning and left it on all day, to encourage the squirrel to seek shelter in a different home — preferably not within the legal boundaries of Jenworld.

Unfortunately, the plans went awry when we realized that Elegant had gymnastics yesterday evening and therefore I would not be home to cheer the Squirrel Hunter on.  Pete was on his own.

I couldn’t help but remember the Attic Incident of 1997, as well as the Great Woodpecker Bordello Raid of 1995.

When I got home at 7:00, Pete was calmly cooking dinner.  He wasn’t wearing any new bandages, which I took to be a good sign.  There weren’t any new holes in our ceilings, which I thought was good too.

It turns out that when he went up into the attic, he went over to the corner of all the activity and found nothing.  No furry little guests.  Apparently, he was correct in his assumption that it was too hot up there during the day.

Pete did ascertain that the little fucker — excuse my language, but I have nothing nice to say about the nasty beast — had pushed in the screening behind the wooden louvered vent.  When that didn’t provide enough room for its bushy little body to enter our attic, it had chewed away part of the wood itself.  As a temporary measure, Pete firmly reattached the screen, but the wood itself is going to need more work.  Foul little bastard.  (The squirrel, not Pete.)

Before reattaching the screen, the Squirrel Hunter scattered Critter Ridder outside the vent.  Then, he scattered lots of it all over that section of the attic.  Lots and lots.  He was quite liberal in his use of Critter Ridder.

Using a broom, he also checked carefully for other inhabitants, but found nothing.

As a final measure, he replaced the incandescent light bulb with a fluorescent one.  Hey, if one is going to scare off the wildlife, one might as well be a little environmentally friendly in the process.

Now do you see how all the items on Pete’s list were utilized?  He’s a smart one, that Squirrel Hunter.

So what did we hear last night?

A whole lot of NOTHING.

Yay!

The end.

(I hope.)