You've got to be kidding me...

It's like a poorly written sit-com. Squirrels in house. Perky upbeat couple determine to battle squirrels. Chaos ensues. In the end, cute furry rodents belittle couple, to audience's delight.

Critter Control was back out yesterday and reset the squirrel trap. I watched out the upstairs window this morning as a squirrel climbed into the trap, nosed around, and then merrily scampered out. My only thought was, "You've got to be kidding me."

I know if I go out there and wave my hand in the trap the steel door will slam down, so I'm leaving well enough alone. But to stand and watch the little beasts roam in and out of the trap while indulging on free food...it's all a bit much.

Had to turn in my author bio for the several stories potentially being accepted for Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul. Had a big to-do with several friends on whether or not it was appropriate or a turn-off to refer to my cats as "demonic" in nature. Half liked it and thought it was funny. Half thought it would be a turn-off and ruin sales. Other options were "nefarious, malicious, conniving, unsettling," and a few others. Here's what I ended up going with:

Dena Harris is a freelance writer, humorist, and public speaker whose work has appeared in magazines and newspapers around the country. Her humor book, "Lessons In Stalking," recounts Dena and her husband's faithful service to their two cuddly if somewhat demonic cats and is available through her website at www.denaharris.com.

Watcha think? I went with demonic but now I'm regretting it. Maybe it is too harsh. There might still be time to change it.

And don't go looking for the book just yet. I'm in the process of publishing.

Tie Game?

The creature lives. We think.

Here's what happened. They guy who came to take the squirrel away stuffed some newspaper into one of the holes under the eaves where he thought the squirrels might be getting in. We were to block up the other eave, which we did.

"If it's a gray squirrel, it'll shove that paper right out in order to get out," our Critter Control man told us.

So the next day I heard...noises...coming from a new place. Not under the stairs, but in the walls closer to the eaves where we'd blocked the entryways. There was no growling, but I heard scampering and shaking, as if prison bars were being shaken by prisoners in warning right before they riot.

I called my husband at work.

"What if we've pissed them off by capturing one of their own?" I whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" he asked.

I scrunched back further underneath the bed and covered the mouthpiece with my hand. "Because I don't want to give away my position."

On the bright side though, we heard no activity this weekend. And this was the weekend we got our first snow. (They told us 3-5 inches of the white death was coming and the whole state stock-piled bread, milk, and toilet paper. We got an hour and a half of snow, about 1/2 inch, and it melted in the blazing sun the next day).

I thought for sure with the snow and cold temperatures if anything was outside it would come in and we would hear it. The fact that we didn't makes me happy. Maybe...oh please, oh please...maybe they really are gone.

Or maybe they're just waiting, planning their revenge.

HA HA! YESSSSS!!!!

WE CAUGHT ONE!

A squirrel, that is. The guy came out on Tuesday and set a trap right outside our eaves where we thought the little critters might be getting in and out. I came home yesterday and there was a squirrel in the trap.

Of course now I'm guilt ridden. What if it wasn't THE squirrel who we suspect is living in our home but just A squirrel that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He looked all cute and furry, huddled there in the steel trap against the cold wind. The cats could see him from their spot on the windowsill, and Lucy sat there fascinated for well over an hour.

I called Critter Control at 4:30, when I got home, to let them know to come get the squirrel. However, I got their answering machine. I kept looking at the little squirrel. It looked very cold. Poor little fella. What if Critter Control didn't get my message until tomorrow? I couldn't let him sit out there and freeze all night.

I decided I would take the cage down, stick it in the back of my car, drive 10 miles to a nearby park, and release Rocky myself. I got out the ladder, climbed up, smiled at God's little creature and...

...almost fell backward off the ladder as this squirrel went freaking nuts.

I reached a hand toward the cage and the squirrel went wild. It was flying and bolting inside the trap, shaking the steel bars, biting the bars, flying back toward me, up, down, over, top, bottom, boom-boom-boom. This was a creature possessed.

I felt bad. Obviously it was scared. But when me saying, "It's okay, I won't hurt you," in my most soothing of tones didn't do the trick, I backed down. Have you ever seen the claws on a squirrel? Those things are like daggers - long and sharp.

Luckily, CC had called me back while I was outside to say their guy was on the way. So now we wait and see if the noises have gone away. If so, we can block up the holes.

Fingers crossed.

Dating While Married

Ha! I bet some of you thought this was going to be a "we practice free-love and so should you and here's our number" type entry. Try again, pervo's. This is simply a rant on the difficulty of finding things to do once you're married.

I believe I mentioned in a past post that every other Friday night is heavy-duty cleaning night. Which still leaves us with 4 Saturday nights and 2 Friday nights each month to actually leave the house and have fun.

You'll notice there is no mention of week nights. That's because week nights are work nights. I don't know when or how exactly I turned into my parents on this subject, but it happened. We don't even have kids, for God's sake, but I think both of us would look at anyone in slack-jawed amazement should it be suggested we go to a movie or see a play on a Tuesday. That's just crazy talk!

Actually, we did have a chance to go out on a Monday night the other week. My friend Rachel found a one-night show of some hot new comedian who was appearing at a club downtown at 8:30 (8:30 pm! On a work night!), and did we want to go?

We did.

But I had stipulations.

First I wanted to know if it was a sit-down club. I didn't want to stand all night. Second, was smoking allowed, because I didn't want to go home smelling like smoke. And would there be a lot of noisy college kids? The thought of being bumped into by large boys carrying beers and placing bets on whether or not they'd get laid that night was not enticing.

So I would go. I was game, I said, as long as it's a quiet, sit-down, non-smoking, older crowd that didn't drink excessively and we would be home at a decent hour.

At what point, exactly, did I turn 80?

I remember my best friend Trisha surprised me with Billy Joel concert tickets for my 21st birthday. We had 11th row seats and stood and screamed and danced and sang the entire concert. There were some middle-aged couples behind us and to the side, who kept trying to get all the kids to sit down, so they could stay seated and see Joel and enjoy the concert. "Man, I hope I never get like that," we said to one another. "Too uptight to enjoy a concert for what it is."

I have this terrible fear that now, should I go see a Billy Joel concert, I would be the one begging the kids around me to please, just sit down.

But all is not lost. We made plans to see a play this weekend and I found an improv comedy club in GSO that gives workshops. The thought of doing improv scares me, so I think I'm going to have to do it.

I just better not see any noisy college kids there.