Dexter the Squirrel

I've come to appreciate Captain Ahab's obsession with Moby-Dick after a squirrel finagled his way into my home's attic. It's a complicated story on how Dexter, as I've come to name him, got in, but I've found that the animal lover in me duels constantly with the, "There's a giant rodent loose in the attic" Ahab part. The latter of which insists on baiting humane traps alongside the animal lover's half-hearted willingness to catch an unwanted house guest.

The unnatural collaboration has left a squirrel's dream trail of goodies through the attic crawlspace to the humane cage, as well as the rooftop, only to find Dexter has gorged himself on bowls of peanut butter, South Beach bars and corn, the trap settings incorrect for his lithe frame.

Sabotage by the animal lover, Ahab left in vexation!

Entire afternoons have been wasted as the Ahab in me stakes out the roof, listens at walls, and peeks into the attic in the animal-lovers hope of spying our "prey" and scaring the whiskers off him so bad that he'd never consider returning.

I can't even begin to explain the sleepless nights, specifically during bad weather, when Ahab has paced the house, periodically checking the cage in the hopes of capture while the animal-lover frets over Dexter left to the elements.

So while Ahab envisions days boasting to friends and family over Dexter's capture, the type of "fish" story that with each proceeding year would grow from the capture of a small squirrel to a colossal, grizzly-bear size rodent with teeth the size of Texas bent on nabbing children and feeding them to his alien-rodent babies. The animal-lover frets obsessively, compulsively over Dexter's safety and does whatever she can to ensure the squirrel's safety.

So what exactly brings a grown woman to act so undecidedly over a furry rodent? Why the constant question, "To catch or not to catch?"

One afternoon, sitting at my computer, I spied Dexter sitting in a tree limb right outside my little office area window.

"I see, Dexter! Why, you look so cute sitting up there, eating snow."

Dexter, looking down from his safe position, smiles in smug, peanut butter-filled satisfaction and proceeds to stick his little pink tongue out at me.

No wonder Ahab followed Moby-Dick to the ends of the earth!

Originally published in the Daily Advocate March 2008.

Bethany J. Royer-DeLong is currently entrenched at home fighting the good war against the gimmes, the I-don't-wannas, and Dexter-squirrel antics, but not to fret, no squirrels have or will be hurt. She blogs recklessly, as all mothers of children under the age of six should, and has been working on that "supposed" great American novel, times a dozen. You can visit her at motherofthemunchkins.blogspot.com and email her at broyerdelong@yahoo.com