Sunday, June 3, 2012

Animal Haus

There must be something about our house that draws critters. Other than our cat, though he is a major source of vitamin Ew around here.

Just a few days after the long-tailed rodent in the dishwasher encounter, I came home from work to find David in the kitchen with a drink in one hand, a long plastic spoon in the other, and the stove hood looking like this:


There were little shredded bits of black plastic all over the stove top and the fan was mangled. David says that he came home to the cat on the counter going nuts and the fan filter dislodged and laying on the stove. He looked up and saw the fan itself still in place. Assuming the cat was just being a dick, David tested to see if the light still worked - yup. Then he turned on the fan. 

"That's when the screaming started."

He tells me there is a squirrel up there and all I can think is that it is mangled and bloody and what are you doing with one of my mixing spoons?!?

"So you turned on the fan?!?

My husband is big on drama and not great at explaining a situation clearly. The squirrel was intact - had been able to side step the fan blades - thank goodness, because I'm not sure I could have ever cooked on that stove top again.



So with drink and spoon in hand (as all great quests are embarked upon), David was trying to evict a very frightened and angry squirrel from our kitchen. Unsuccessfully.

Have you ever heard the noise a very frightened and angry squirrel makes when it is stuck in your stove hood and your husband has tried to chop it up with the fan? It's like a barking cough - like a croupy baby, but sharper and with more claws.

Several minutes of cajoling later, it has become clear that the mixing spoon is not doing the trick. The kitchen is a wreck, Sam needs to be picked up at daycare soon, and there is still a squirrel hovering above our cooking area. I decide that someone has to stick their hand in there and just grab the little bugger. Someone not me. I am pregnant at this point, after all!

We don David in an oven mitt and a tea towel wrapped around his upper arm. I am laughing hysterically as my big brave husband repeatedly yanks his padded hand away from the chirping hole in our stove hood. He gets a hold of it a few times but it is really mad, and strong, and has a terrified hold on the inner ridge of the opening. He doesn't want to pull so hard he dismembers it, but through g'faws I'm saying "You just have to grab him!"

He finally gets the squirrel out and pitches it into the backyard. Oh I wish I had a photo of David running across the kitchen with a squirrel at arm's length that is trying to chomp down on his oven-mitted hand! Very funny indeed :)

We ordered take out that night.

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