And that’s what my neighbors in my small town have decided to call it. The Rockford Rodent Roundup of 2012. Jeez.
Yesterday afternoon, I eased into my leather chair, iPad on my lap, TV remote in hand, settling down to watch the news for my allotted 30 minutes after a full day of teaching, tutoring, driving, shopping, and grading my students’ summer school assignments.
A silent, crafty chipmunk pivoted in rapid motion left, right and right, left around the ottoman upon which my feet soles were perched.
Alarmed and screeching, I bolted for the garage door and called to Kurt, James, and Steve, neighbors with hunting and burly-guy-stuff experience and all the gear to back it up.
I don’t really care that they laughed. I don’t care at all that they called over other neighbors to let them in on the joke, my plight. And I certainly allowed them to tromp through my house with their work boots and dogs on leashes trying to ferret out this unwelcome vermin. They gave up quickly. It’s only a little, scared chipmunk, Colleen.
Calling four minutes before the close of business to the nearest, and most highly rated, pest control agency in my area, I was blessed with the very kind president of the company driving up to my house to scare away this “little guy.” Heh. After 40 minutes or so, he decided that he had convinced me that the chipmunk must have run out the door without anyone’s notice. Yeah, that chipmunk was back not 10 minutes after this man had left.
I called the company from the driveway again. Then, I grabbed a shirt from my car to change into in the morning and headed for my neighbor’s house.
It wasn’t about the chipmunk anymore. My meltdown was becoming clear that I had had enough change in a short amount of time. My guy was gone, the dogs were gone, and my placid vision of the world was shaken by this dumb rat. ADT does not scan for chipmunks, and locks do not protect you from rodent germs. I had finally felt unsafe in my little paradise. Anything could breach my fortress now.
Hopefully, the pest control people can carry forth my wishes of scorched earth policy on my property and check each peanut butter-baited trap my neighbors set. In the meantime, I would like my bed (after all sheets are rewashed) and my home to be as it was. In so many ways the nature of that home is impossible and perhaps better for the long run, but my subtle complaint remains.