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An Open Letter to the Squirrels

April 27, 2011

Dear Skippy or Fluffy or Chippy or Snarky or whatever your name is,

I am DONE. Done.

I have put up with your shenanigans for eight years. Every pot, every planter, every pile of loose soil – you have disturbed and disrespected them all. The rape of mere seedlings, the devastation of new-panted six-packs – you have no shame. No shame at all. All fourteen pumpkins even – fourteen! Could you not have spared two or three for the gentle boys who so eagerly awaited their burnished autumn glory?

The gas line to the barbecue was stupefying the first time, but downright annoying the second. I’m happy to see our preventative measures have dissuaded further dental exploration by you and your callous cronies.

The car – now that was contemptible. And expensive! When I came out that morning to find my truck’s roof at eye level – that was startling to say the least. Our mechanic was especially amused at the walnut hulls you left, along with your tooth marks, on the hydraulic lines. I went to great lengths after that incident – I called at least four city agencies in protest.

“Overrun!” I cried.

“No can do.” They stalled.

Protected, they tell me. “Wildlife.”

Wildlife my foot. Devious, conniving, hateful minions of Old Nick is more like it.

The yard has just begun to flourish. Our first spring with the new landscaping.

Those bulbs were a gift, you dastardly little gremlins. A gift! Dahlias. Dinner-plate dahlias. They would have looked so nice behind the trellis.

How could you? I killed myself digging holes in the hard-packed clay. How did you even know where they were? Were you watching from the upper realms, peeping from branches as your treasure was buried, oh, so carefully, one by one? Did you squeak in evil pleasure as your beady eyes beheld my toil, plotting your villainous scheme?

When was it? Under cover of nightfall perhaps – that you robbed, stole, purloined, and plundered every last one. How base. How very despicable!

And thus, I say – game on, my furry little miscreants. Game on.
You will rue the day you messed with my garden, you squeaky devils. Game on.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. April 28, 2011 5:16 am

    The little creeps. I feel your pain. Though maybe my pain is slightly less, um, painful. You’ve got a bad case, I’m afraid.

    Good luck…and you must update us, for sure!

  2. April 28, 2011 1:05 pm

    Too funny! I would never have thought you’d have a squirrel problem out there.

    • April 29, 2011 9:11 am

      Squirrels, bees and ants – that pretty much sums up our pest population. They make up for the lack of other pests in their own sheer quantities. The meat bees attack you at BBQs, the ants come inside when it rains, and the squirrels are a hassle year round.

  3. Tonya Power permalink
    April 29, 2011 3:49 pm

    My parents have had trouble with the squirrels too. They would even eat their oranges and pomegranates. When they would complain to the city, they were told that squirrels don’t eat those, it must be another animal. My mom thought it was “funny” that it “looked” like a squirrel sitting on the fence eating the fruit (heavy sarcasm). They never got an almond off their almond tree either. The squirrels would eat them while they were still blossoms.

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