DOWN HOME: Devious squirrels in the attic … again

They’re baaaaaaack!

Well, I don’t know if they are back, but they were back.

Squirrels, that is.

In our attic.

Again.

I remember the good ol’ days, when I loved squirrels. That was when I thought of them in the abstract. You know—cute little furry creatures who scampered and ate acorns.

That was before I knew them in person. You know—malicious, destructive rodents who invade people’s homes and damage their trees.

Since we moved into our home about two and a half years ago, we’ve endured intermittent squirrel “problems.”

Like the time one died in the wall between the kitchen and the dining room. Fortunately, he scratched so much I knew right where to look for him. And don’t forget the times they stripped bark off my third-favorite tree, which now looks pathetic in winter, when it’s denuded of leaves.

I’m a peace-loving person. But I’ll confess to violent thoughts about squirrels. And while I’ve never swerved to actually try to run over a squirrel, I sure have thought about it.

So, Joanna and I cringed when we heard tell-tale scampering behind the fascia above the kitchen cabinets. She worried about them chewing wires and burning the house down. And I could practically smell the odor of another dead varmint in the wall.

Jo offered to call the pest-control people (I wouldn’t be surprised if she has them on speed dial), but I told her I’d take care of it.

I thought about setting out poison, but we’ve got a blessing that in this case is a curse—mountains of insulation in our attic. If Rocky died underneath all that fluff, I’d never find his craven little body.

After talking to a guy at the hardware store, I decided to run the little sneaks out of our home.

He suggested spraying a mixture of fox urine and water up there. Based on the failure of fox urine to protect my third-favorite tree, I was skeptical. I think these little guys wear fox urine like cologne. But, ultimately, I decided fox urine would be the first round in my escalating war on squirrels. In case you’re wondering, the northeast corner of our attic smells like a fox outhouse.

For good measure, I bought a sonic-irritant device. I can’t hear it, but it’s supposed to drive squirrels and other rodents crazy. (Fortunately, so far, our dog, Topanga, hasn’t gone schizoid on us.)

You might not be surprised to learn our problem with squirrels reminds me of my personal problem with sin. It keeps showing up—unannounced, uninvited, destructive and always one false step away from stinking up my life.

So, I keep praying God will clear the sin out of my life. And I hope the process doesn’t involve mass quantities of fox urine.