A Person

For this January Blogging Challenge post, I'm going to unearth some writing I started a few months back but never finalized. It's some writing about a person. That person is my husband, Dave.

This past fall, Dave was on a mission to take out a red squirrel that had been building his winter nest in our attic. This was nothing new. Every year there's at least one red squirrel who finds its way into the house and Dave's psyche. We've all witnessed his obsession with red squirrels, and now whenever either kid sees a red squirrel, he or she stops what they are doing, points like a hunting dog, and shouts, "Dad, red squirrel!" Then the three of them gather at the window to track the movements of the tiny, albeit fierce, creature.

So, without my saying yes and without my saying no, Dave acquired a BB* gun to deal with the red squirrels and other small creatures who wreak havoc on our house and yard. I have, of course, mixed feelings about this. I understand the need for removal of the creatures and prefer this method, I think, to poison. But I'm also someone who prefers the settling of disputes in diplomatic, violent-free ways. In my conflicted state, I stayed out of the conversation and lo and behold, I now have to mark that line on our pediatrician's safety checklist that states we have a gun in the house. Ugh.

Dave's red squirrel mission took up much of his evening and weekend time in October. As the weather began to cool to fall temperatures, we had screens off and windows wide open while Dave watched for his target. This often went on for hours while Dave waited for the perfect shot -- one that would not alarm (or hit) the neighbors or workers building the addition to their house directly in sight with the squirrel's usual route.

Then, finally, on Halloween evening before the trick-or-treating began, it happened. Dave shot the squirrel. The look of pride and satisfaction on his face was worth the weeks of wearing our coats in the house. We were all very happy for Dave and that this squirrel chapter had closed.

Except that it hadn't. You see, Dave did hit the squirrel with a pellet, of that part he was sure, but of the directness of the hit, he couldn't say. He did see the squirrel run up to a low branch on a nearby tree and lie down. And after 30 minutes of stillness, he did declare that the squirrel was dead (and also likely to fall eventually onto the neighbor's gazebo).

Can you believe, though, that after those 30 minutes when we had all given up the watching and had gotten the Halloween costumes on, one of the kids shouted, "Dad, red squirrel!" and a bloody critter with tail waving in the breeze came running along the fence headed toward the house? It's true. It did. On that very Halloween our resident red squirrel came back to life and zombied across our yard.

The kids and I laughed so hard.

Then, a couple of weeks later Dave sent me a picture of a dead red squirrel which I opened while sipping tea at the hair salon.

*Dave would like for me to add that this is a high-velocity pellet gun that takes out the creatures humanely with "one-shot."