That’s the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!

Years ago, when we were in our mid-20s, we bought our first house.  At the same time, friends of ours also bought a house not too far away.  Being young and inexperienced, we knew pretty much nothing about home ownership and the same thing can be said about our friends.

About a year or two after we bought our house, our friends called us on a Saturday morning.  It was fall and we had been planning to spend the afternoon and evening together watching college football.  However, there had been a change in the plans; our friends had discovered evidence of some sort of rodent living in their unfinished basement, so they were going to spend some time investigating the situation and then figuring out what to do.  After some discussion, the plan was revised and it turned out that the menfolk (Pete and S) would go rodent hunting, while we women (M and myself) went shopping.

We drove over to our friends’ house and, as soon as S opened the door to let us in, we started laughing.  He had dressed himself in what he  considered to be appropriate rodent hunting attire:  He was wearing heavy clothes from his neck down to his ankles, so that nothing was exposed.  On his hands were thick ski gloves.  Best of all, on his head was one of those hats that has ear flaps and he had the flaps pulled down and tied tightly to his head.  By contrast, Pete was wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

M and I wished the hunters good luck and left the house to go shopping.  We returned several hours later to find the guys were doing what all men do when they’ve been doing man stuff and are oozing testosterone:  They were watching football on TV and drinking beer.

It turns out that the guys had ascertained that there was a squirrel in the basement.  They had not actually caught the squirrel, but they had at least identified it as such.

We spent the rest of the evening together, with much of our conversation focused on the varmint that was causing so much trouble and coming up with various plans for removal.  As the plans were conceived while drinking cheap beer, most of them were not actually practical.

Later the next day, our friends called to say that they had dealt with the squirrel.  It was quite simple actually.  They’d opened the basement door and the furry guest had eventually wandered out.

I wish I could say that this is the end of my post and that I was merely trying to entertain you with a tale from the 20th century.  Alas, that is not the case.

Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear noises above me.  At first, I thought that a squirrel was up on the roof, but upon further listening, it became clear that there was something in the attic.  The attic that was not eight feet from my very head.

*shudder*

Figuring that whatever it was would go away, I went back to sleep.  An hour or two later, I woke up and heard the same noises.  Above my head.

More sleep, followed by waking up and hearing the same. damn. noises.

On and on, all night long.

I woke up an hour early and listened to the same creature moving around.  Above my head.  I burrowed under the covers and shuddered while I pondered the possibilities.

It could be a squirrel.  But squirrels are not nocturnal.  Oh crap, what if it’s rats.  Or worse, possums or even raccoons.

*Shuddering and chills*

What were we going to do?  Call an exterminator?  What if they can’t find the animal?

Or, what if the animal is digging around so much that it actually digs through the drywall and ends up in my bedroom.  Possibly while I’m in there.

What if it’s rabid?  I’ve heard those shots are really painful.

*More shuddering and chills.*

I eventually woke Pete in order to share my stress and anxiety with him.  I’m a big believer in sharing the joy.

Pete listened intently and came up with more rational conclusions than I had.  It’s probably just a squirrel and it got in through the vents near the roofline.

We walked the girls to school and then I continued for a longer walk through the neighborhood.  I actually managed to forget about our varmint problems.

When I got home, Pete greeted me with the news that he had walked outside and looked up at the vent and, at that moment, a small squirrel poked its head out at him and said:

I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

Okay, so the squirrel didn’t actually say that, but I’m sure it was THINKING it.

So now we have to figure out what to do about this squirrel. First, we have to get it out of the attic.  And by “we” I actually mean “Pete” because I have never once climbed up the rickety ladder to our attic and I’m not about to start now just so that I can face a Killer Squirrel.

(And yes, I am now thinking about the Killer Rabbit scene in “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”)

So if anyone has any advice on what to do about our uninvited guest that doesn’t involve me actually having to do anything with it or that won’t lead to Pete’s certain death, I’d really appreciate it.

Oh, and today, I’m guest-blogging about our new house over at Trying to Be Greener.