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She’s back.
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And this time she brought reinforcements.
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She was running to and fro, across our deck, up and over the roof.
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Plotting her next invasion location.
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But the worst part?
Look….
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She’s trying to recruit the grey squirrels!
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Yes, she’s still here.
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Though thankfully this year she’s keeping her distance and not nesting in our attic.
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How long that will last probably depends on how long her memory is.
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Forcibly knocking her children out of my gutter’s downspout was traumatic I’m sure.
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I’m hoping she took up residence in the neighbor’s new tree house. I mean come on, it’s a house. In a tree. What does she want… an engraved invitation?
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This month’s squirrel has been doing a little gardening.
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And while I never object to landscaping and property beautification, if she’s planting a tree next to our house for easier access…. I’ll be grabbing my ax and aiming for more than the tree.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten snuck out the not quite closed back door yesterday. It was his first taste of freedom since we adopted him back in January…. and he was positively drunk with joy.
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Instead of grabbing him and flinging his furry little butt inside, I let him enjoy the nice weather. At first he was calm, and jumped up on the table to lie in the sun. I petted and praised him and began to rethink my outdoor ban.
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Before I knew it he’d jumped off the deck and started wandering in and out of shrubs. I kept a close eye on where he was going, thinking he’d be satisfied to slowly explore his surroundings. But then?
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Bam! He took off running… across the lawn, past the garage and out towards the road. I called his name, he ignored me. I tried to catch him, he ran faster. When I finally herded him back to the deck, the little devil crawled under it… way out of reach. No amount of coaxing (or cursing) would bring him out. I spent half an hour waiting for his highness to tire of the stand off but no, he wasn’t moving. So I got a broom.
That managed to get him out from under… only to have him sprint directly to the woodshed.
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Where he climbed, jumped and writhed like a madman, knocking over bricks, plant pots and basically everything he touched. There’s only one entrance, so after 10 minutes of wild scrambling trying to get away from me?
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He gave up and perched on some wood…. which is when I grabbed his Royal highness, threw him over my shoulder and marched him into the house. The house he will probably never be allowed to leave again. Sorry Dudley, but you blew it.
Naturally his Lordship was quite put out with me. I got the stink eye, the cold shoulder and then the non stop howling and pestering for a repeated chance at the great outdoors.
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And I know more than a few of you have been waiting for this …
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten was not pleased with the new litter in his box.
How not pleased was he? Every time he needed to poo….
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I caught him digging in my houseplants. He would pee in the box, but not poop…. and it was a total nightmare. After picking him up and placing him in the box at least 426 times… only to have him jump out of it like it was on fire… I gave up and switched back to the old litter.
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With predictable results. $29 bag of Skoon?
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You can kiss my ass.
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It rained again, in January, in Maine. That’s not supposed to happen. Most years we’re positively buried in snow.
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And I have to say I’d much rather be doing this…
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Than dealing with this…
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It rained…. and our roof sprung yet another leak.
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In yet another brand new spot. Every time the husband thinks he’s fixed it? It leaks somewhere else. And while the temperature has been mild (for us) it’s still not warm enough to strip and replace a roof. So while we wait for spring and pray for snow, our ceiling is being ruined. I’ve bleached this 3 times …
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And it still bleeds through.
Kill me now.
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Every Sunday night I kick the husband off the big tv in the living room and stay up late binge watching a bunch of recorded series. I don’t watch a lot of television, but I am addicted to a few HBO, Starz and Showtime programs that my other half hates.
So Monday is the one morning I sleep past 5:00am… and I relish my extra 2 hours. But this Monday morning? I was woken by a noise.
Scratching. And banging. Then more scratching.
I grumbled, I stumbled, I got out of bed and I found this….
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The red squirrel bitch from Hell. She had scaled the bush alongside the house and was scrambling up and down the screen, over and over. And then?
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She just hung there.
Taunting me.
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That bitch has got to go.
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Neither snow nor rain… nor frigid temperatures will stop the red squirrel from Hell.
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She was scurrying over the roof and across the deck railing…
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Trying to make her way to the seed buffet.
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But this snow was light, fluffy and thick and every time she tried to walk across it?
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She fell through.
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And yes, I laughed my rapidly expanding, thank you Covid 19 ass off.
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But she had the last laugh.
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Because the bitch has learned to tunnel.
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She tunneled for over an hour.
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Back and forth.
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Building an entire red squirrel subway line.
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This doesn’t bode well for my dream of her dying of starvation over the winter.
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Or the safety of our home’s foundation for that matter.
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If I wake up next month with her sitting at the kitchen table nibbling my Krispy Kreme’s? Things are going to get real.
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And I don’t like what it had to say.
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Not one damn bit.
Sadly after all the roofing repairs my husband and his friends did the other day… nothing changed.
It’s still leaking.
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So we went back up in the attic and realized the wood and shingles they replaced the other day probably weren’t high enough up on the roof.
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So now our ceiling looks even worse.
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And though he thinks he knows where to make the next repair?
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It was on the day our first N’or Easter started blowing in… so I doubt it will be anytime soon.
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While all the frenzied work in the barn has been consuming my husband’s mind and time?
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This was happening inside our house.
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Yet another roof leak.
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We have walked the roof.
We have climbed into the attic.
We have replaced our chimney insert.
We have tarred, caulked, shingled, flashed and yes, swore repeatedly…. but still can’t figure out where it’s coming in.
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Back in ’94 before we owned the home, a bump out addition was added to the living room…
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And what I’m assuming is a load bearing beam… is where the rain always breaks through.
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It’s beyond aggravating.
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Not to mention ugly.
So back in the attic crawl space we went. Of course this means all the husband’s junk must be vomited from the den closet first.
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And there’s a lot of junk.
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Anyone need some slightly dated reading material?
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This time the attic investigation revealed two possible spots on the roof where water could be getting in. Husband is guessing 3 squares of shingles will have to be replaced. But winter is upon us, and it’s not going to be a pleasant task.
Wish us luck.
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