Story Corner

A Home Invasion

Acting on impulse, I diligently surveyed the lonely house. Because it was a rare, mild, and green winter’s day, I wanted to be out in the Spring-like atmosphere. Choosing my own home first, I had looked with satisfaction at the sturdiness of the building, and with surprise at the daffodil shoots peeping precociously through the bare earth, not aware of their premature resurrection. Delicately I walked by them, and now decided to check my good neighbour’s cottage which they left to the fortunes of Winter whilst taking up residence further south.

Eaves-dropping – that’s what it felt like, as if I was disturbing a hibernating human home. Finally I finished my circuit in front of the huge picture window which looked out onto the glory of the lake and cliffs. Gingerly I climbed the steps up onto the deck and noticed an ornament on the back of the window seat which I was not familiar with. Hoping to see it better, I stepped closer to the window. Instantly the ornament moved and disappeared with a large bushy tail following behind it. Jokingly I told myself that the Winter sun was playing tricks on my eyes. Knocking my knuckles on the windowsill I saw the brown fury creature scamper across the floor. Looking very like a squirrel, I decided the cottage owners would not approve of such a squatter or any friends he (or she) might have in there.

Moving back to my house I obtained the key I had been entrusted with and returned to the invaded cottage. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to the mess I might find on entering. Opening the door I was relieved to find very little disorder in the kitchen. Please don’t ask me to explain why I then opened the doors wide and hid behind a bush nearby. Queer as it may sound I reasoned that the intruder would hear his compatriots chattering outside and would be thrilled to dash out to join them. Reason however did not tell me that this creature would be reluctant to leave first-class accommodation with a cold winter just around the corner.

Since nothing came out, I went in the cottage and then noticed holes chewed in the large wood box by the fire and also in the ceiling up above, whilst the scampering of little feet told me the animal was having a great time in his penthouse in the loft.

Traps – that’s what I needed and as I didn’t want to kill the little creature, I was happy to borrow a live-trap from a friend who sympathized with my story. Using a lot of needed patience I duly set the trap on the kitchen floor with a lovely big peanut inside and returned to my own life activities for a few hours. Voicing assurances to myself that the calamity would be resolved into a squirrel evacuation exercise, I returned to the cottage to find a sprung but empty trap. Wondering why the refrigerator was closed instead of propped open as usual, I innocently opened it and out flew the furry creature exclaiming, I’m sure, that he was glad the wretched machine wasn’t in action or hypothermia would have finished him!

X-rated movies wouldn’t do justice to my reaction to this turn of events. You could say my nerves were on edge whilst I reset the trap, hoping for a more successful outcome.

Zero tolerance was the order of the next day when the trap was sprung but empty – and, on finding the above fridge-freezer shut it was opened to allow yet again, the habitual and everlasting pest to leap out and leave me to contact the C.I.A. or the R.C.M.P. for a resolution to this crisis.

A true story of the New Year.
January 6th, 2004
Pat Horner