October 24, 2006

Just my Luck Or RIP Little Chipmunk

I drove Big I to school this morning and there was nothing extraordinary that separated today from any other day. Upon arriving home, I normally walk around the front of my car to get Lil C out. I don’t know what made me go around the back today, but I did and that’s when I saw it. . . a squished dead chipmunk. It lay there, three feet behind my back wheel, dead as a doornail and so obviously my doing.

I stopped in my tracks and let out a horrified sigh. And then I realized something even worse than the dead chipmunk. Before Big I gets off the bus today, I’m going to have to clean up my mess.

I am the person who can’t pick up a cat hairball without throwing up a little in my mouth or at least heaving to the point that I have to run to the bathroom, just in case. I scanned my neighbor’s houses and cars to see if anyone suitable for doing this sort of thing was home, and the answer was sadly, no.

I took Lil C in the house and did what any rational wife who just killed a chipmunk would do. I called my husband whose office is 45 minutes away and demanded that he come home and now. He laughed while I cursed him for not working from home today of all days DAMN IT. "Just put on a glove. . . " he started. "NO! I can’t do THAT!" I said completely horrified. "I’ll throw up!" I said. "Well, then your other option is to get the snow shovel. . . ". "Oh GOD NO. . . Can’t you just come home?" I begged. "Do you think my Dad would come out and take care of it for me?" I asked my husband. "No, well, maybe. You could call him and tell him that you hit a deer, and that you need help. Then, when he shows up, you could tell him ‘Oops! Sorry, I meant a deer MOUSE’" my husband said while relishing in the fact that he was a good hour away.

"How bad is it?" he asked. "It’s bad," I said "he’s a pancake, squished in the middle and what’s coming out the ends isn’t pretty." "Oh Man," he said and laughed some more.

So I hung up and did what any rational woman would do. . . I called my Mom.

"I have a problem," I said. "WHAT?" she asked thinking there was something seriously wrong. I told her my dilemma and she recommended that I first cover the poor little guy with some leaves and then scoop him up with a snow shovel and put him in some bushes or trees where he wouldn’t be disturbed. This from the woman who had a chipmunk trapped in her fireplace, so my Dad put a trap in there, caught him, and then released him into the woods. "I don’t know if I can do this," I said. "Well, you’re going to have to. Imagine Big I’s face when she gets off the bus." "I know," I said, resigned to my fate.

I got Lil C occupied in her port-a-crib and retrieved the snow shovel. As I opened the front door, a squirrel sat on my step just staring me down. You think I’m kidding? Because I’m not! Then the birds started making all kinds of noise and swooping around in a threatening fashion. I was waiting for a mountain lion to come charging down from the woods and eat me or something. I felt like the friendly forest folk were declaring war on me. I needed to do this quickly.

I threw some leaves on top and I’ll only say that dead chipmunks don’t just nicely move themselves onto snow shovels. There was some scooping and some squirming (that was me) and then I finally got him on the shovel and put him in a ground covering bush away from the house. Then, I had to hose off the shovel, and hose down the crime scene. I also had to hose down my back wheel. Can I tell you how relieved I was that it was my BACK wheel and not the front? I never saw him because he ran out after my front wheel had already passed. Stupid chipmunk running under a car.

And so considering how this day started, I think I’m ready to call it a day. The things we’ll do for our kids. . .