I don’t currently have any kitty cats, and quite frankly I don’t really want to have any, but that might change and soon.
One of those warm, furry critters that I am not fond of are squirrels. Yep, those pesky squirrels that we love to call by their rightful name—tree rats. I am not just not fond of them, I hate them, and they hate me it seems.
When I had cats, I kept them outdoors just so they could patrol the perimeter of the castle here on N. Third and keep possums, snakes, dogs, cougars, beavers (another rodent), rabbits (another rodent) and other undesirable animals out, especially squirrels, my arch nemesis.
Now don’t get me wrong, I think there is nothing wrong with a snake deep in the Galberry Swamp, not a problem at all. But when a snake or possum or a cougar happens upon my front doorstep—or horror of horrors—into the castle, then someone’s gotta go. It will probably be me because I can, even at my age, outrun any snake or raccoon or possum that I meet, probably even outrun one of those Robeson County cougars that people keep telling me they’ve spotted.
So for many years, I had guard cats on duty 24/7 and as a result I slept the sleep of angels every night knowing they were out there doing their duty—I could always hear them before drifting off into never never land and sometimes being awakened by them when it sounded like WWIII out there. I wasn’t always sure what was happening in the jungle on Third, but I knew that it was okay, that the laws of nature were in full effect.
But then my cats all died out of feline leukemia or were victims on the N. Third Drag Strip. I was saddened for a while, but when things got out of hand here, I really became saddened—and frightened.
Squirrels! They multiplied. They quickly became the pest and the plague of the western world right out there just beyond the walls of the castle, and sometimes on top of the walls.
Squirrels. It’s as if they declared war on me for all those years of cat power. And now it seems they might be winning.
When I go outside, they await me and they drop things, no, throw things at me and my big head. Large green pine cones can hurt, people! They mock me, just inches above me in the very branches of my Japanese cherry tree that they are now consuming branch by branch.
They eat every pecan and plum and every fig that I can grow. They uproot my flowers, planting those pecans and then trying to remember where they are hidden.
They scamper across the roof at dawn, scaring the daylights right out of me.
They slice open the screen on my screened in back porch and parade fearlessly and mockingly around out there, breaking my glass oil lamps and making such a mess that it looks like a tornado came through and stayed for three days.
Squirrels have become legion in my yard, and they scare me now.
They are also a tremendous nuisance to other homeowners in my neighborhood. One climbed to the top of a very potent utility pole Sunday and unfortunately for it, but great news to us, got zapped. However, our joy at being released from this vicious threat was short lived when the power was interrupted and we realized that all out appliances were zapped as well.
Squirrels also cause traffic problems. Yep, it’s true. When those dragsters come powering down Third, and a suicidal squirrel (not nearly enough of those) steps in front, you just know that the driver is gonna swerve, lose control and flip before ramming into our houses.
I checked the other day, and no, I cannot shoot the varmints (squirrels). Something about a noise ordinance or something like that. But have the coppers ever heard those malicious evil squirrels cursing at me? No, I think not.
But, anyway, they will not let me shoot the sorry devils. They do allow me to throw things at them. Do you know how many sets of keys I’ve lost in just the past six months?
But I have begun to pursue other alternatives to shooting the devils.
I have begun to train my fire ants to take one down and devour it.
I have also learned to set bear traps and dig quick-sand pits.
My latest weapon in the War of the Squirrels is to encourage Senator Richard Burr to introduce legislation allowing us blue-blooded Americans to import and release into our yards Africanized Killer Mongooses (Mongeese?)
Heck, we’ve already imported fire ants and killer bees, so why not mongooses (mongeese?).
When this legislation is enacted and it becomes legal for us to carry a concealed mongoose, those squirrels will see who’s boss. Hah!
It’s either that or something that my poor old neighbors certainly dread—the return of the cat clan to the castle. As much as my neighbors hate the squirrels, too, I’m not sure which they fear, loathe and curse the most, my squirrels or my attack cats. Time will tell. Got to go now, Got to try to repair that microwave that the dead squirrel took out.
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