squirrels | Dr. Suze Espouses

In August I shared the story of the night I returned home and found my dogs lunging around the television. I described my apprehension, as to what captivated their attention–a snake, a bat, a rat, or some other creature. It was a squirrel! A squirrel, who then escaped to an upstairs bedroom and eventually vacated my casa through the balcony door.

Two weeks ago, I saw Mr. Squirrel again. By now, a chubby, full-grown squirrel romping across the front yard. I was glad he survived the nightmare of inhabiting my house for a week and delighted I chose not to pay $2,800 for critter removal! Until….

Until, I had to prepare for out-of-town, house guests last week: my niece and her husband and their two kids. After tidying the first two bedrooms, I wandered into the third–the one Mr. Squirrel had vacationed in. I pulled the hide-a-bed sofa apart. WTH? Underneath the sofa was a mass of shredded wood! WTH? Was he feasting on my sofa innards? No wonder he’s fat. I examined the shards of wood. Hmm.

To my horror, I looked up. Mr. Squirrel had chomped off the tops of several slats of the pricey, plantation shutters! I was livid. As I cleaned up his mess, I cursed his soul. But my anger subsided when I learned that squirrels are known to plant thousands of trees across the earth–an interesting fact. And who knows, maybe one of his reforestation projects will replace my ragged shutters?

Nothing says, “Uh oh,” like walking into my casa and seeing six dogs dancing in front of my TV! Unlike most of you, my big screen doesn’t hang on the wall but sits on a cabinet at an angle between two walls.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Of course, my dogs didn’t answer and continued their happy dance. Obviously something was behind the TV. Should I look? What if it was a heinous snake? Or a rat? Or a javelina? Spare me! Somehow I mustered the courage to peek…a big fat squirrel! WTH, do I do?

With the help of my friend who lives in my guest house, we put the dogs outside. (They couldn’t resist the dog treat-strewn patio.) Armed with a pool net, I was ready to snare the frisky varmint and toss him out the front door. However, Mr. Squirrel zigged as we zagged and alluded us. The search began.

“Sue, I found him! He’s on the landing at the top of the stair case. Prop open the front door. Maybe he’ll smell the air and go out.”

Hmm. Perhaps. “Hey, G, I’ve a better idea. I’ll go upstairs, open the outside door to the balcony, and he can get out.”

“What about the bats?”

“We’ll only leave it open for a half hour and hope he leaves and no bats fly in.”

With no sign of the squirrel, life moved on for the next five days. Uh oh! “Did you hear that? There’s a chirping sound upstairs.” Ye, gods! What now?

“Call the trapper. This is too big of a problem for us, Sue.”

On a Saturday afternoon? Doubtful. After five calls to trapping establishments, one answered and asked a series of questions. His responses to my answers were: “A squirrel can’t live for five days without food or water, so he’s probably coming and going. Thus, I’ll be out on Monday to do a home inspection etc, and the cost will be $2,500.” My ass. I’m not paying $2,500 for a squirrel hunt!

G took charge, went up stairs, and saw Mr. Squirrel scurry under the sofa. She opened the balcony door and left. When I checked the room two hours later, the bushy-tailed menace was gone–leaving behind lots of poop and chewed-up wood and paper. I canceled my Amazon order of a humane, squirrel cage trap and googled squirrels. Squirrels can live up to 100 days without food and water.

Not only did we save a squirrel, but I saved $2,500! Life is good–and very interesting.