A problem that I didn't think about when I bought my house was that I would actually start to care about how the lawn looks to the neighbors.
I am not a vain person at all, when it comes to clothing I own the smallest amount I can possibly get away with - two pair of jeans and two pair of tennis shoes - I would cut it back to one pair each but I always seem to get one pair wet.
Most of the shirts I own come from the Salvation Army or have been gifts or garage sale finds. I think that if you tally up the total cost of my entire wardrobe it would come to about $3.88. I don't drive a flashy car. The car I drive is so old the owners manual is hand written and there are Roman numerals on the speedometer.
However, for some reason I have taken the time to hand clean the flower beds, trim back weeds and rake nearly ten lawn bags of leaves just so the little blades of grass get a nice healthy start this year. I guess that's not so bad, sort of a hobby kind of a thing - does it make me unhip? Sure, but I don't care.
That would be all well and fine, a Saturday afternoon weeding and clipping grass while wondering when exactly I turned into my father - but no - those damn squirrels had to start fucking with me.
I use to think they were cute, like bunnies playing in a meadow, possibly stopping to sniff a flower or twitch their tails. . . Not these sons of bitches. They wait until I plant things and then they dig up the roots, I find walnuts buried in my drive way, and I constantly hear the tiny little cloven hooves of squirrels running back and forth on my roof while I am trying to read a book.
They are evil little creatures, like rats, like furry little rat things with big pointy teeth. The city thought it would be a good idea to cut down my neighbors walnut tree which housed roughly the population of Argentina in squirrels. Now they have come to my house to eat all the bird seed in the feeders and nest in my maple tree.
Outside of the city limits this wouldn't be a problem, a few gunshots through the screen door and no more problem, but seeing as how I live like a block from he police station and they frown on gun fire, I am reduced to plot my revenge using alternative methods.
So far I have tied the dog up in the front yard near their home, they disappear for a little while but come back hungry. I have allowed the cat to track them however he sees them only as a passing curiosity. Raelynn will not let me poison them plus they are too smart for that - I think the only option I have left is to trick them at their own game - I am sending away for a jar of squirrel pheromones on the Internet which I will use to douse myself and hide in the tree making them think I am one of them. I will infiltrate their base and lower there defense shields. Once the shield is down a second group of fighters will fly into the super structure and fire photon torpedoes at the generators. . . .Actually I think that was the plot to return of the Jedi.
I am not a vain person at all, when it comes to clothing I own the smallest amount I can possibly get away with - two pair of jeans and two pair of tennis shoes - I would cut it back to one pair each but I always seem to get one pair wet.
Most of the shirts I own come from the Salvation Army or have been gifts or garage sale finds. I think that if you tally up the total cost of my entire wardrobe it would come to about $3.88. I don't drive a flashy car. The car I drive is so old the owners manual is hand written and there are Roman numerals on the speedometer.
However, for some reason I have taken the time to hand clean the flower beds, trim back weeds and rake nearly ten lawn bags of leaves just so the little blades of grass get a nice healthy start this year. I guess that's not so bad, sort of a hobby kind of a thing - does it make me unhip? Sure, but I don't care.
That would be all well and fine, a Saturday afternoon weeding and clipping grass while wondering when exactly I turned into my father - but no - those damn squirrels had to start fucking with me.
I use to think they were cute, like bunnies playing in a meadow, possibly stopping to sniff a flower or twitch their tails. . . Not these sons of bitches. They wait until I plant things and then they dig up the roots, I find walnuts buried in my drive way, and I constantly hear the tiny little cloven hooves of squirrels running back and forth on my roof while I am trying to read a book.
They are evil little creatures, like rats, like furry little rat things with big pointy teeth. The city thought it would be a good idea to cut down my neighbors walnut tree which housed roughly the population of Argentina in squirrels. Now they have come to my house to eat all the bird seed in the feeders and nest in my maple tree.
Outside of the city limits this wouldn't be a problem, a few gunshots through the screen door and no more problem, but seeing as how I live like a block from he police station and they frown on gun fire, I am reduced to plot my revenge using alternative methods.
So far I have tied the dog up in the front yard near their home, they disappear for a little while but come back hungry. I have allowed the cat to track them however he sees them only as a passing curiosity. Raelynn will not let me poison them plus they are too smart for that - I think the only option I have left is to trick them at their own game - I am sending away for a jar of squirrel pheromones on the Internet which I will use to douse myself and hide in the tree making them think I am one of them. I will infiltrate their base and lower there defense shields. Once the shield is down a second group of fighters will fly into the super structure and fire photon torpedoes at the generators. . . .Actually I think that was the plot to return of the Jedi.
Maybe I am taking things a little too far, but they started it.
You need my dog. He is a class one, A+, squirrel deterrent. In fact he's molesting squirrel's as we speak. No squirrel is safe in my backyard. When he barks they run. They run from Charlie like the 20th Century French run from conflict. Alternatively you could just fence in your entire yard and get your own Jack Russell. I promise the squirrels will leave.
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