They're baaa-ack. The Squirrels have decided this is the season for revenge and are setting up house in my attic. I can hear them even as I type this, their thick claws scraping across the ceiling over my head.
I've been hearing the sound for some time (days) but had hoped I was just hearing them on the roof. But today I could trace their path as they traipsed from the light fixture over to the bathroom ceiling to above my work desk and back to the light again. I sang them a little song to get them to leave that went something like this:
Get out of my house
you furry-tailed mouse.
Or with poison I'll fill you
That's right baby, I'll kill you.
I just called Critter Control who got rid of the squirrels for us last time. "Did you sign-up for our long-term warranty?" asked the girl who answered the phone. I thought of the warranty offer I--ironically--received just last month. I crumpled into a ball and threw it in the trash on top of the discarded kitty litter.
"Um, I don't remember," I said.
"We'll have someone out there as soon as possible," she replied.
I'd like to get this taken care of before we leave for our trip. That way I won't have the unpleasant task of informing the housesitter there is the possibility of her being bludgeoned to death by angry squirrels who mistake her for me in the dark. But last time it took several weeks to get rid of the squirrels. Oh, they're clever.
But in the end, there can be only one.