Human vs Chipmunk

A friend of Life in the Boomer Lane (We’ll call her “Glenda” because that is her name) lives in Maine. LBL loves her because she is a gorgeous, feisty, independant creature. When stone walls needed to be built to enclose her property, Glenda built them. When trees needed to come down, Glenda felled them. When colorful language is required, Glenda provides it. She fears no living creature. Except chipmunks.

Glenda owns two, very young, recently purchased cats. She also owns a bedroom. She was sitting in her bedroom one morning last week, taking her vitamins and supplements. The cats were close by, inspecting which items in the room they could either leap onto, fall off of, or cause to crash to the floor. In other words, it was a normal morning.

Into this scene walked a chipmunk, approximately the same size as the cats. Glenda does not recollect what kind of reaction her cats had to the presence of an alien species into their sacred domain, because Glenda, herself, was far too busy being distracted by her own hysteria. She exercised her usual sense of control in all situations by getting out of her chair and screaming. The chipmunk fled to find calmer quarters.

Glenda gave chase, apparantly having not considered what she would have actually done, had she cought up with the chipmunk. The chipmunk used its internal GPS to reroute itself from the living room and made it into the bathroom. For some reason that has not been adequately explained to LBL, Glenda texted her Ex-Boyfriend/Sort of Continuing Boyfriend to ask him what to do and he advised her to throw the kittens into the bathroom with the chipmunk. He then said he would be right over.

She then texted her daughter, who pointed out the possibility that the chipmunk might bite one of the kittens. Glenda responded that she thought exactly the same thing, but EBSCB said to do it. He spoke with some authority and so Glenda complied.

Her next text to her daughter was They’re still in there. I don’t think the chipmunk’s dead yet. I peeked through the tiny crack and the cats look OK. I think the cats think the chipmunk is just another small cat or a toy. You couldn’t pay me to open the door.

Her daughter told her to at least let the kittens out. Glenda refused to open the door. Her daughter suggested that the chipmunk might have fleas, ticks, or rabies. Glenda agreed about the fleas and ticks, but doubted the rabies part. The chipmunk appeared to be calm and in good spirits.

Then the chipmunk squealed. Glenda texted Such a bad plan. I’m going to shit if I have to go into that bathroom. This last text is interesting for several reasons, chief of which that it is an outstanding pun. The texts between mother and daughter continued with no actual resolution. EBSCB still hadn’t arrived. Glenda’s daughter suggested that LBL write a blog post about the episode. Finally Glenda texted Not funny, which LBL is assuming referred to her inability to enter the bathroom, not to her reaction of LBL’s humor-writing ability when her daughter suggested LBL write a blog post .

At last, accessing a lifetime of courage, Glenda grabbed a broom with one hand and, with the other hand, held a cast iron skillet as a shield. She entered the bathroom. As soon as the door opened, the cats fled, obviously bored with trying to make friends cross-species.

The chipmunk was now in the shower. Glenda did what any person of courage would do. She stood there screaming at the sight of the chipmunk.

EBSCB burst through the door, with an armload of homemade paraphenalia connected to chipmunk capture. He came into the bathroom, entered the shower stall, and threw a large towel over the chipmunk. He then scooped up the chipmunk, left the house and released it, as far away from the house as he could get. It was all done within a matter of a few minutes.

EBSCB eventually left. Glenda switched from vitamins to anti-anxiety meds. The cats continued to find other areas of the house in which to wreak havoc. The chipmunk could not be reached for comment.