I came home from a walk this afternoon to find a squirrel in my basement -- thrashing and crashing around and obviously wishing he was not in the basement. On this we agreed, I did not want him in my basement either. We differed a bit on how he was going to leave, but the back door is open. I visited him in the laundry room, and left to close off as much of the rest of the house as I could. Now there is no sign of him. Here's hoping he left (though I actually don't have much hope on that front, I suspect he is just scared shitless and holed up somewhere down there). Anyone have a have-a-heart trap in a squirrel size?
Anyway, since it seemed like we might be spending a little time together, I named him Frank. Why a male name? I dunno... its spring. Maybe his testosterone addled brain convinced him that coming into my house would be a good idea. As I was reminded of last night, the desire to get laid makes some males do really stoopid things.
****Update**** I barricaded what I could and left the back door wide open, while I sat down to quietly do some work. After a while, I heard some rustling at the back of the house, snuck through the kitchen and found a squirrel just past the back step. Was it Frank leaving my house? It had to be. I had a little chat with him about not doing this again while he chattered at me from the tree.
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