Squirrel!

About 13 years ago we were buying our first home. On one of our visits to check construction and progress we heard a frog.

I remember thinking, 'oh, wow! We have a frog!'

Well, that frog turned out to be about 20,000 frogs. 20,000 loud, loud frogs.

They were cute, they were fun. I saved many of them. Pulled them off the side of the car, put them outside (after a reasonable amount of screaming), freed them after the kids caught them. I was a good frog steward. There are pluses to the frogs - there are no bugs anywhere near your home. None. You sleep incredibly soundly. You can't hear the television but you sleep well.

And so when we moved, I knew I'd miss the frogs. 

But what I got was going to be better. I got squirrels! They're funny. They're furry. They seem pretty smart. My goal in those early days was to tame a couple to come up to the door and take nuts from my hand. That sounded fun. At the time.

It turns out that squirrels are assholes.

Assholes.

And the squirrels in my neighborhood were not pleased when I moved in. With two children and three dogs.

Our house had not been regularly lived in for a few years and then vacant for another year or so. The squirrels had gotten quite used to lounging around in our backyard and sunning themselves on our balcony. 

Stop digging! Jerks.

They showed their displeasure often in the beginning. I was working in a flowerbed under a pine tree when I was hit on the head with an apple. One of then little bastards threw an apple at me. An apple. We don't have an apple tree near our yard. I swear he laughed.

Mating season is intense. And never ending apparently. Squirrels don't understand that no means no. I've been woken up in the early morning on multiple occasions to the sound of a lady squirrel trying to escape a randy male. Literally banging on my window to avoid banging him. No means no buddy!

The kids comment about the squirrels playing 'tag'. Yep. They're playing tag. Hopefully she doesn't get tagged.

But then, then one or two or many of them pushed it too far. They began hiding their nuts and winter food in the flowerpots on my front porch. I would be greeted after work with plant parts and dirt all over the front steps.

I got smarter. I moved pots around - I even brought the one that they loved the most into the house.

Which seemed to anger them. As they retaliated. 

I came home to a garden gnome face down on the front steps. Broken. Pieces of him everywhere. Hands smashed.

They don't know who they're dealing with.

Murder. Allegedly.