A squirrel’s tale

Tonight, my sister called me to regale me with a tale that still has me nearly hysterical with laughter.  To the best of my ability I will try to relate the story, as told to me, so that my readers may roll around in hysterics as well.

For the first time all week, the house was quiet.

My niece and cousin, Taylor and Emily, were sitting around the living room and Sophie was, for the moment, feeling better than she had in the last couple of days.  I haven’t felt so great myself this last week, so a momentarily calm respite was a welcomed time and a bit of relaxation was, as far as I was concerned, in order.

Leaving the girls in the other room, I walked into the dining room to look out on the back yard and gaze into the sky, wondering if it would be another rainy evening.  As it usually does, my gaze wandered to the pool; the clear water, blue like the tiled lining, was still and inviting.  The leaves in the trees trembled slightly in the light breeze and birds flew here and there as though playing tag.  It looked to be a wonderful time to sit down and just chill out for a while.

As I turned to go back and join the others, something caught my eye.  I blinked, because at first glance, I didn’t believe what I was seeing.  In an instant, the serenity that had been within my grasp was gone.

There, in the calm waters of the pool, was a squirrel and it wasn’t moving a muscle.

Having, as I said, felt less than stellar the last couple of days, I immediately felt a wave of squeamish nausea.

I could not face the thought of fishing a dead squirrel out of the swimming pool.

Without hesitation, I started calling the people I knew who could handle this situation with ease.

Any other time, they would be driving me bats, calling, texting, questioning… but on this night, it was as though they had all been transported elsewhere and there was no answer to any of my calls.

So, as a last resort, I called my husband at work to demand he come home immediately and get that thing out of the pool.  He was less than excited about the whole incident and frankly told me that he wasn’t going to leave work to get the squirrel out of the pool; but that someone had to do it.

He was even kind enough to tell me where I could find a pair of gloves.

Jerk.

I was on the verge of requesting to speak to the man who works with him to see if HE would come and help me.

But I didn’t.

I wanted desperately to scream, stomp and throw the phone into the pool with the dead squirrel.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I did what could likely be the dumbest thing I have done all year.

Turning back into the living room, I addressed Taylor, Emily and Sophie.  I told them calmly and concisely what was up and what they needed to do.  My niece promptly retrieved the gloves, donned them and was ready for action.

We went outside as a unit, myself, Sophie, Taylor and Emily.

As the two brave girls walked toward the pool, Emily shrieked “It’s moving!”.

Everyone sprang into action.

Taylor, wearing the heavy gloves, stood near Emily as they prepared to move what was now the nearly dead squirrel out of the pool.

Almost like a movie, the events that unfolded reminded me of a song that Ray Stevens sang about a rogue squirrel in a Mississippi church.  The squirrel was, as we say in East Tennessee, playing possum.

Not only was it not dead, it was very much alive.

It jumped out of the pool and the two brave girls turned into stomping, dancing, flapping, screaming, squealing babies.  The dog, a dachshund of all things, began chasing the squirrel around and around the pool.  The girls continued their dance of terror as Sophie began screaming for me to not let the dog kill the squirrel.

She didn’t seem to mind that the squirrel was dead when it was dead, but once it showed it had plenty of life, it became an issue.

So there I stood with two half-grown girls freaking out, a five-year old freaking out and a dog trying her very best to catch that blasted squirrel, who by now was also freaking out.

After several rounds in and around the pool, the squirrel finally realizing it had a brain in that walnut sized head, jumped upon the deck railing that encloses the pool and made his way into the back yard and out of sight.  After the adrenaline waned and everyone had calmed down enough to go back inside, I made a decision.  Since Sophie was feeling better and there were two babysitters on the premises, my mind was made up.  I had to get out of the house.  So, I left the three of them watching a movie and am now on my way to Wal-Mart.

If I can only get my hands on some cream horns, nobody will get hurt.

* I laughed so hard when my sister told me this, as a matter of fact, I am still laughing.  While I realize this post is not about photography, or encouragement or even greeting cards but laughter and camaraderie among a bunch of girls, I felt it was important to relate it.  Laughter is, after all, one of the very best medicines.  Enjoy the post and laugh out loud if you feel like it.

3 responses to “A squirrel’s tale

  1. What I wouldn’t give to have seen that with my own eyes!

  2. Reblogged this on A Photographer's Heart and commented:

    every now and then, I revisit this post … it always makes me laugh and laughter is a balm to the soul

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