Squirrely

I've been fascinated with squirrels for years, but the closest thing to a squirrel in the Philippines is a rat and they just aren't as cute. So, when I was in the States, I relished all squirrel encounters.

Though I'm still not sure why, my Dad would tell my brother and I squirrel stories each night before bed. Actually, purple squirrel stories. Ironically, the purple squirrel's adventures would closely mirror whatever we had done that particular day. I lived for the latest installment of the purple squirrel's adventures - you can even ask my Dad for confirmation.

I also remember a book about a family of flying squirrels and being captivated with a four-legged animal that could actually fly!

There's even a myth that Princeton, NJ is one of the few places that has black squirrels.

Plus, my Middle School soccer coach raised two baby squirrels as pets.

So you'd think, when a squirrel decided to join me in watching last nights Patriots/Chargers playoff game, that I'd relish the encounter. Though professionally trained to respond to fire and security alarms and maintain calm in crisis situations, throw a squirrel in a room with me and I completely lose it - or lost it as the case may be.

But there's more mystery to this than meets the eye. Our house is situated in a development with only a few trees. Few trees, means few, if any squirrels. I've seen more rabits than squirrels. So where in the world our unexpected guest came from has me stumped. Conspiracy theories are already surfacing... it was smuggled in from my in-laws hiding in the hood of our car.

Secondly, how in the world did it get into the house?!? When we purchased this humble abode, I failed to see the section on the disclosure statement that reported that it's actually a dual-family dwelling - one human, one rodent. I'm accustomed to the bi-annual mouse hunting season and those fun little Mickeys running laps between the floorboards, but a squirrel is a different animal.

While I employed interrogation methods I picked up from Jack Bauer, all they did was make the thing burrow further into the arm rest of our coach. Here's how it went down...

I had heard some rustling in the ceiling/floor above, but didn't think much of it. That was until Beth headed upstairs and the next thing I new, I heard pitter-patter steps bounding across the basement carpet headed for the couch. I didn't see the whites of its eyes, but I saw enough to get my heart rate up. Seeing all 6'2" of me arise off the couch, the poor critter did a 180 and made a b-line for the sliding glass door. Unfortunately for both of us, the door was closed. Ever seen a bird fly into a big picture window? Yeah, that. Freaked out, I would be too if I was in his fur, it crawled up into and burrowed itself in the armrest of the couch. Cutting to the escape, we removed the section of the coach, parked it in the garage with the door cracked open and left it be. It was gone by morning, disappearing just as he had arrived, no clue as to where it went or how it got there.