Chipmunks to the rescue

Life comes back to you, with little bits of whimsy and humor - sometimes just in the nick of time - this was definitely one of those times...

 

If anyone had wanted the goods on me they would have had it the other day. I knew there was a chipmunk in the house. It was hard enough living with that reality. I know my cat can hold the reality of a chipmunk living in the house and still get a good night’s sleep. She did it two nights running, best I can tell the amount of time that poor thing was stuck in the house.  But Molly would check the grates and sniff around the study now and then during the day. That’s what made me suspect the critter was in the house until I finally saw it and confirmed my suspicions.  But when it came out into the open, well, I just wasn’t prepared for the next part.

I was on the phone with a good friend asking for a recipe.  That’s when I saw it and it saw me seeing it.  So it wasn’t my imagination.  All the books and everything that I kept tidying up over the last few days wasn’t an indication of a new behavior pattern from Molly.  She kept to the usual items we left as a release valve on the counter tops for her to knock over.  Empty creamer containers from the diners; empty skate cases from the beach. Anything that made a nice enough sound when falling on the wood floor and then had the added benefit of making a good sound as she practiced driving the ball down the soccer field.

When I saw the chipmunk and it seemed to go, “Cripes! She’s here too!” it ran back into the bowels of the house; first by the dining room and then I lost track of it and feared it went into the bathroom or the basement. I was hoping it went into the bedroom after losing the dream of it opening the front screen door and leaving of its own free will.

This seemed like the time to run and get Molly and lock her in the study. She was behind the French doors in the front room and banging the doors so much that their weak excuse for a lock wasn’t going to hold much longer. I’m not sure if my concern was more for the chipmunk or me trying to pry the chipmunk out of her jaws.  But I knew I didn’t want to face either situation.  I grabbed her and she must have thought we were going to go hunting the chipmunk together because she was eager but didn’t squirm out of my grip.

Once I got her in the study I starting whooping and hollering to rouse the chipmunk from wherever it was and drive it into the bedroom. Well, that poor thing must have freaked. Suddenly, I saw it run to the bedroom and then try to escape through the open windows. But the screens stopped it. It ran across the bed, ran into each windowsill but the screens were there every time, blocking its escape.

Then it looked like it was coming at me. My neighbor just got done telling me the other day that they do that - run right at you.  I totally freaked.  I screamed and yelled as I jumped on top of the bed. What a sight that must have been. I think I could have jumped higher than Michael Jordan at that moment. My heart was racing.  I kept on hooting and hollering really loud and the chipmunk was running amok.  'Oh shoot', I realized, I’d have to get off the bed, run to one of the windows and pop out the screen. I did just that too.  And don’t ask me how I moved so fast because I have no idea.  I jumped off the bed and unhooked the latches that held the screen in and pushed the damn thing out of its tracks and onto the flowering hastas outside.

Then the critter was trying at the windows again but the wrong ones. Damn.  It was trying for the windows but expecting the same results, no pass to the outside.  What’s that saying about trying the same things and expecting different results?  The definition of crazy. But clearly not the definition of chipmunk.  It kept trying the same thing but expected the same results.

Honestly, I wish I could tell you I know just what happened and how it got to the open window the second time but I can't even though that's all I was focused on. But when it got to the window with no screen it was just staying at the edge of the window as if maybe it still didn't have access to outside.  This time I yelled so loud I thought all the neighbors would be calling the cops.  I swear that the force of my sounds is what finally gave it the final push out the window.  It leaped. What a leap! If there were Olympics for chipmunks, really, when you think about it, there should be, it would have won the broad jump. I don’t know who displayed more valor that day. The chipmunk or my cat Molly. It certainly wasn’t me. By the way, nobody called the cops. So much for neighborhood crime watch.

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