Squirrel Saga

I have an affinity for all living things. Even snakes; not that I would want to pick one up, but I respect it’s right to be.  As a matter of fact I prefer the company of animals over people. Not all people share this trait with me. Consequently I find myself presently  in dispute over this principle. I recently did something I swore I would never do again; that is rent from a landlord who lives downstairs; another creepy middle aged male landlord who thinks I care to allow him to invade my privacy (which I hold sacred) and jabber on and on about things I couldn’t give a tinker’s damn about. For example, calling me on the spur of the moment and saying “I need to get into the attic for this or that.” That may very well be true, but I would appreciate a heads up and perhaps at least a half hour notice. And after you get your gadget please don’t feel at liberty to stand there and go on and on about the most humdrum subject matter on the face of the earth. And especially when I haven’t even had my first cup of coffee of the day and/or cigarette (yes, I know it may be afternoon, but to me it’s morning). And please don’t invite me to sit around your fire pit and have a “friendly” beer with you. It ain’t gonna happen.

The yahoo I rent from presently has a vendetta against squirrels. Okay, I know they can damage homes; these clever little critter’s razor sharp claws can whittle away an entry and therefore chew on wiring; but then fix the holes and cracks in your property and maybe the little critters won’t be so apt to find a way in. I have lived in many places, in many neighborhoods, and have yet to have come across a squirrel trap. And to make matters worse this trap sits right on the landing of the stairs leading up to my back porch. This porch may look to most people like a dilapidated off the kitchen mishap, a space to perhaps keep your recycling bin in but to me it lodges a sacred space in my home; the windows are screened, (however torn, which to me is a good thing (cause the bees that find their way in can find their way out).  The indoor/outdoor carpeting has seen better days ( I pondered calling the building inspector’s office one day when I was vacuuming and accidently hit the wall with the hoover and I thought it was going to cave in), but I thought I didn’t want to “rock the boat”, or perhaps I should say “rock the porch.” I didn’t for they would have to come up and invade my privacy and that would be intolerable. So I gingerly sit on my porch, praying that it does not collapse as I ponder the mysteries of the universe (okay, maybe as I ponder what I’m going to eat when I feel the urge to get up and fix something).

The other morning one of these “innocent” creatures had the misfortune of being trapped within the steel wiring of squirrel prison. All he did was venture up the steps, see nuts, and go for it. Not a crime in the squirrel judicial courts. I was sitting on my porch, enjoying the gorgeous foliage always present before my eyes, counting, let’s see, five gold finches and two swallows, but am interrupted by a sound of a frenzied commotion. I get out of my chair and look down the steps and see the confined squirrel. He is going nuts (no pun intended) and to make matter worse he struggles in the noon day sun. So I do what any animal lover (not quite PETA card carrying yet) would do, I let the damn thing out. A few hours later I am out and about, check my phone (which I usually keep on silent) and see I have a message which I listen to. It’s from my landlord, and he asks that I call him back, which I do. Pappy’s not too happy when I tell him, yes, I let the squirrel out, the great outdoors is squirrels' natural habitant;  I felt it was cruel, etc. Well, I might as well talk to the freakin’ squirrel; he would be more apt to understand. The landlord (god, I hate that title; this guy is nothing near a “lord”) is going ballistic, I fear (no, I hope) he will go into cardiac arrest and I will have to hang up and dial 911 (maybe). I hang up on him and then call him back and tell him he does not need to speak to me in that tone of voice; if he can’t have an “intelligent” conversation, don’t bother me, and by the way don’t even think of evicting me cause I will haul your ass to court. He hangs up on me and I call him back, he does not answer, I leave a message with the words, I didn’t think you would answer however, don’t ever speak to me in that manner and leave me alone unless it is something important regarding the apartment and visa versa, and no more of this spur of the moment, “I have to get in” bullcrap cause I have rights as a tenant. Amen. Well, that’s that, I think. The trap remains so when he’s not home I spray it with Mr. Clean (with Febreeze) hoping the scent will repulse the little guys (and girls).

This morning I wake up and see the little red light on my phone flashing. Hark, there is a message. Guess who? Yep. He asks me if I know anything about his trap, the trap that no longer sits on the steps. And honest to God, I don’t. I try to convey to him this (I can understand why he considers me the main suspect). I really did not take the trap. I added that perhaps the DNR came by and nabbed it (I did look up the rules). I asked him if he had a valid trapping or hunting license. The tone of his voice changed and I detected a bit of fear when he asked if I called the DNA. I said no (and I didn’t). Anyway  I actually thought last night when I checked the trap (something I do a few times a day) and saw that it was gone that he good naturedly moved it so I would not be disturbed. Evidently I gave the jerk more credit than he deserved. I almost said, “Maybe a bunch of squirrels carried it off”, but then thought it best be left unsaid. He did thank me for returning his call and I said, “You’re welcome.” Forced civilized conversation, to say the least.

It’s very likely that one of the many kids running wild in the neighborhood took it cause to a kid it would be a pretty neat toy. I really don’t know. I like to think Providence stepped in but then I might be considered a candidate for Two West (wouldn’t be the first time).  Oh, well, I hope it remains a mystery to both the landlord and me and that “DNR” comment may avert him from purchasing another one. 

 “Compassion for animals is intimately connected with goodness of character and it may be confidently asserted that he who is cruel to animals cannot be a good man.” Arthur Schopenhaur