Ch. 4 Say Hello To My Little Friend

So after we spent the weekend at a friend's house (you didn't think I'd really sleep in the same house as the rodents, did you?) Monday finally arrived. The pest crew showed up right on time and started laying traps and putting the flashing all around the house. It took them SIX HOURS! They finished the job and assured me that all would be well. They now couldn't get out or in and the (no-kill) traps were placed all around the attic so that they really had no place to go.

My question was: If that blind baby squirrel could find its way out of the attic and into my kitchen, what was stopping a savvy disgusting rat from doing the same? Their answer: nothing.

So the kids and I went on vacation. We were scheduled to anyway, but the timing worked out nicely. The pest crew had a lock box on my door and they would check the traps every couple of days. By the time we got home, my house should be critter free. We met Hal in Houston for our Spring Break and to be quite honest, after telling my story a few hundred times, I forgot all about it. Soon enough, it was time to go home.

After our week was up, the kids and I flew back into town. Hal had to make one more stop on the road and he would meet us at home in a couple of days. We spent most of the day traveling and when we finally pulled into our driveway, we were all glad to be home. Everyone grabbed a suitcase and we walked through the kitchen door. The kids headed upstairs and I straightened up to stretch my back. As I did, something caught my eye. The lamp on my computer desk was on its side. I cocked my head like a confused puppy and scanned the rest of the desk area. The papers were scattered and the monitor was crooked. I walked towards the desk and peeked in the pantry. It was totally dissheveled. Boxes were on the floor, packages were opened, stuff was absolutely everywhere.

I quietly called for the kids and grabbed the phone, fully prepared to dial 911. I was certain we had been robbed. Hannah came bounding downstairs with her blond ponytail swinging. I was fumbling with the phone when I heard her say, "Hey Mom? Why are there little rocks all over the kitchen table?" Rocks?

Oh, no... I walked over to the table and sure enough, she was right. Little rock like turds were strewn all over the kitchen table. Upon further inspection, rodent sh*t was everywhere. On the desk, in the pantry, on the couch, in the hallway. I started to hyperventilate at the sheer thought of it. These freakin rodents had a Spring Break party in my house while I was gone! I half expected to find mini beer cans and kegs in the trash cans.

It was then that I heard the sentence that I hope to never...ever...hear again.

"Mom! I think there's something in the bathroom. It's looking at me."

Ch. 3 Jenny Invents New Curse Words

Ok, so our last installment left our heroine bending down to pick up what she thought was a brown sock on the floor after just saying goodbye to the pest control guy who told her she had roof rats...can you see what's coming?

Well, I was actually on the phone with the office manager of the pest company at the time, arranging for the crew to come out and fix my roof. As I'm telling her my schedule, I reach down casually to scoop up this sock and as my fingers graze it...the flippin' thing MOVED. FAST.

What happened next was a blur involving me standing on the breakfast table like the old cartoons of Tom and Jerry and screaming toward the receiver (which I had flung across the kitchen) for her to send someone to kill the &(mailto:*@*&%&^# rat in my house.

Don't ask me how, but I managed to hop my way around the kitchen without touching the floor - I was like a lifesize version of frogger bolting from island to bar to keys to purse to OUTSIDE!!! I found myself running down the street panting and shaking like a leaf.

Thankfully, the kids were at a friend's house or I would have scarred them with my antics much more than the creature inside could have. I waited in my car (surely rats would have trouble opening the door, what with their little claws getting in the way and all) for the pest man to arrive back at my house. TWO FREAKIN HOURS LATER he pulls into the driveway and strolls into my house to save the day.

He walks in to the kitchen after hearing my breathless account of the drama armed with his trusty rat trapping tools and he comes out with a huge smile on his face. I didn't even want to ask, but I had to. "What?"

"um..ma'am, that's not a rat. It's a baby flying squirrel." He was carrying a box and he walked to the side of my house to set it down. Out hopped the vermin I was so terrified of. It could have fit in the palm of my hand and it was so young that it's eyes weren't even opened. It cheeped a cute little sound which I recognized from that morning.

I felt so conflicted. I was elated that my fingers did not touch a rat, but I was also extremely embarrassed by my lack of bravado and my two hours wasted while I huddled in the car. I turned hopefully to my pest man and said, "So, we don't have rats, we have squirrels?" (somehow the fluffiness of their tails makes them so much easier to stomach) and he replied, "Oh, no ma'am...you have both."

You would think, friends, that this ends my adventure with the furry little woodland creatures, but you would be wrong. For my story is just beginning. Tune in tomorrow to see how the "tail" unfolds...

Ch. 2 A Close Encounter

So, it's Friday, and Hal just left for a week of travel. It's up to me to either take care of this rodent painfully squealing in my walls or find a cheap hotel for the week. I gave myself the mother of all pep talks and then I spent most of my time at work alternately researching rodent removal companies and real estate in my area. I finally found the courage to call one company but the guy was such an arrogant jerk that I decided to keep looking. He was one of those sad souls who enjoys making people feel stupid - I suppose you have to find some element of fun in your job and when you chase rats for a living, your options are limited.

Long story short, I found a company (whose website didn't disgust me with realistic pictures of rats eating babies) and arranged to meet a representative around 3 pm. When we went into the house together, I showed him where we heard all the noise - of course, it was quiet. I felt like I do when I take my kids to the doctor because they are deathly ill and as soon as he walks in the room, they are suddenly bouncing off the walls. I cried out, "I promise! It was right there! You have to believe me!!!"

To my simultaneous relief and horror, he believed me and after poking around in my attic and basement, he informed me that we most likely have roof rats. He thought that they got in from the trees surrounding our property. Apparently, the builder didn't put "flashing" around the perimeter of our roof, so there was a huge 4 inch gap practically flashing a neon "vacancy" sign to all creepy critters in the area.

So, he gives me an estimate on the work that needs to be done (so long college fund) and tells me that his crew will be back on Monday. I talked myself down from the rafters and decided that I could DO this. There's no way that these rats would come into the living quarters. They were more scared of us than we were of them....right?

As I was sitting in the kitchen trying to compose myself, I started cleaning up - I have always been comforted by organizing when things go wrong - and I was starting to feel better with each swipe of my swiffer. I got ready to sweep the floor and I went to move the small space heater to the corner of the room. As I touched it, I noticed that a small brown object was underneath it. Now, dear readers, you are most likely smarter than I - you can probably guess what this small brown object was. I, on the other hand, have the short term memory of a walnut. I was so engrossed in my cleaning, that it didn't even occur to me that this could be anything other than a wadded up sock (never mind the fact that it was in THE KITCHEN and no one in my family wears furry brown socks!!!).

So, I reached down to pick up the sock and ...

Tune in tomorrow for another episode of "Rodent Adventures with the Runkels"

Squirrels are from Hell

I have had some requests to tell "the squirrel story", so here it is. Warning: If you get creeped out (like me) by the sound and or sight of furry rodents - proceed with caution...

I used to think that squirrels were cute. In college, I used to feed them from my lunch as I ate on campus. I loved their tiny paws and their bushy tails. Now, I know the truth. Squirrels are satan's spawn. They are rats in thinly veiled disguises and I hate them.

There is, of course, a story behind this. It's a long one, so I will break it up into chapters for you.

Ch. 1 : The Runkels Hear a Friend

One lovely spring morning as Hal and I were headed to the office, we heard a strange noise coming from the hallway bathroom. It sounded remarkably like the sound of me typing these words - clicking, clacking, and scratching. We went in search of said noise and as we got closer to the sound, we also heard a high pitched squealing. I don't remember much else because I either fainted or ran outside - in either case, I found myself sitting on the front porch breathing deeply so I didn't throw up. Some....thing was stuck in the walls of my house. And here's the best part. Hal was headed out of town for 5 days.

to be continued...

So, I've Got That Goin' For Me...

I have to hand it to QVC; they are speedy in their delivery of goods. Less than 36 hours ago, I purchased Tony Little's Rock and Roll Stepper, and as I was eating my lunch (oh, the irony) it arrived on my doorstep.

I am giddy with anticipation. Just to think that with just 5 minutes every other day, I too can have a rock hard bootay that Tony can .... spank? Yep - that's the cover of the dvd that came with the stepper. Tony Little creepin on some coed's fanny. Who exactly is he marketing to with this cover? Am I, the female buyer, supposed to like this idea? So, let me get this straight... Not only do I have to fear falling off of this cockeyed stair stepper, but now I have to watch out for Tony Little's grab happy hands around every 1950s Studebaker car I see? Screw that. I'm sticking to my cookies and ice cream. At least I'll have my dignity.

Curse You, Tony Little!

I feel so dirty. I actually watched...and bought something from QVC last night. I was bored and feeling sorry for myself when in a moment of weakness (and after a huge bowl of ice cream mixed with crushed cookies) I flipped the channels mindlessly. I should know better. In the past, when I've channel surfed like a tv whore I've ended up watching old reruns of TJ Hooker and Saved By the Bell. Nothing good can come of it, I tell you.

Well, last night, I reached a new low. I came across a Tony Little infomercial and while I told myself that I would watch with the sole purpose of making fun of him, something odd happened. The sheer size of his enormous thighs and the sway of his ponytail hypnotized me and I ended up watching the entire infomercial. Sure, I laughed. How could I not. He was selling something called the "Rock and Roll Stepper" - an inane device that looks a little like a sled for midgets and he was surrounded by rock hard babes in lycra with fake tans and plastic boobs - all smiling their way through a "Rock and Roll Workout", Tony-Style.

Don't ask me how it happened, but somehow I ended up buying into his promises of health and happiness for just two low payments of $34.95. I bought the thing. It should arrive in 7-10 days and I'm not sure how I will explain it to my family. Maybe I'll tell them that we're adopting a midget and I want to get ready early.

You MUST watch the video of this, for the sheer visual of me trying to do this thing. My favorite part is the grandma they have in the back who is barely moving. You have to watch the whole thing so that you can hear the host tell everyone that buying this is better than saving for retirement. But I assume no responsibility if you end up being seduced by his 'tail as well. Don't come crying to me if you end up with one too.

Six Little Ducks Went Out to Play..on I-85

Ok, so my morning started out with an extremely weird and disturbing event. After dropping the kiddies off at their respective camps (thank GOD), I hopped onto the interstate to make my way into work. It was a beautiful, sunny morning and Stevie Ray Vaughn was growling his way through The House is a Rockin' on my radio. All was well with the world.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something small moving across two lanes of speeding traffic and into my lane. The cars in front of me started to swerve; I gripped the steering wheel and leaned forward to figure out what it was that they were trying to avoid. When I got about 15 feet away from what I thought was debris, the little moving items came into sharp focus.

A mother duck and her six furry little ducklings were gingerly crossing 5 lanes of speeding Atlanta traffic and my wheels were about to break up the family, so to speak. I had enough time to think logically that swerving to miss this little group would be very very bad for my own health, so I fully braced myself for the inevitable sound and my ensuing nausea . It never came. Miraculously, my car went right over two little duckies as Mom looked on. I'd like to think that they made it all the way across with similar good fortune, but their chances weren't good.

Oddly enough, my first thought after barely missing them all was about guilt. I felt for the mama - she must feel so guilty for leading her innocent little fluffy ones into possibly the most dangerous situation possible. I wonder what her last thought was - if ducks have thoughts, that is. Maybe she was cursing herself for taking a wrong turn. Maybe she was blaming her man for giving her the wrong directions. Or maybe she just snapped and got sick and tired of all the quacking and squawking from these dang kids. Who knows? I am just glad that my tires weren't the ones to send them to meet their maker. I don't think I could ever play duck duck goose with my kids again.