Tuesday, May 16, 2006
I was going to blog about this yesteday, but something came up and I didn't get the chance. I want to tell you the story of the squirrel.I had supper at Aunt Holly's yesterday, and left her house again around 6:00pm. When I got outdoors, I could hear something over by the garbage box. It sounded like something was tryin to get out, so I stopped, and I knew right away what it was. See, there's this squirrel that's been around lately. He shows up every now and then, looks for a bit of food, and then takes off. I saw him about a week ago, and I made the vow then "if he ever comes back, I'm gonna have some target practice!"
So I walked slowly over to the garbage box, looked around, but I couldn't find what was making the noise. So I thought then that it might have been my imagination, so I left again. By this time Uncle George had showed up, and asked what I was up to. I explained that I thought I heard the squirrel that's been around here for a while, but I couldn't seem to find him. I continued my journey home, but before I got to the steps, George said "Rudy, there he is!" I looked, and sure enough, Mr. Squirrel was sitting on the garbage box. I reached down, and grabbed a rock. With George giving the play by play of the squirrel, I tried to find my best shot. The poor little feller stayed there the whole time in one spot.
Attack him from behind. That's the best plan. So I walked up, and got myself in line. The squirrel had his back to me, so this was going to be perfect. I aimed, and threw. I hit the garbage box just a centimetre to the left of him, so just enough to scare him away.
George joined the hunt at this point, and we were both determined. The squirrel hid back in the garbage box, so we walked over and took off the lid. He jumped out, flying past us, and onto the fence.
Running along the fence, me and George were in hot pursuit. Along the way George found a broom, and collected more deadly rocks. Only problem was George isn't Harry Potter, and the Squirrel isn't Voldemort, and I'm not David, and the squirrel is far from Goliath.
Running up the driveway, our furry friend walked up the steps of our house, and George and I was right behind him. George started pounding with the broom, but the little guy was too quick. I never got another good shot yet, so I was mainly coach. I rejected the David strategy, and became a Ron for Harry, as I grabbed another broom of my own.
The squirrel got away, and ran under the bridge. We thought he was gone. But wait. Hear that? He's still there!!
By this time we were drawing an audience, as the neighbors were now in their door, watching. "Get the gun!" they said. But no, we prefer to do it as our forfathers did it. Good old fashioned inginuity.
Hitting the bridge, we tried to force him out. Finally, we say the eyes. He was planning a sneak escape. We'd have to chase him on foot. We're ready.
The squirrel waits for the right time, and finally, like a streak comes running. Out to the car, under the car, out of reach. Our brooms go flying, and hitting the ground he was on just mila-seconds before. Up on the bridge again, and down the driveway. We chase on foot, but he outruns us. I throw two more rocks, but hitting a moving target isn't as easy as it looks.
The squirrel gets away. But he'll be back. And we'll fight another day.
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