Wednesday, 26 August 2009

I Am Now A Charter Member of the SDL!

I like to think of myself as a generally peaceful person. I like to believe that all of God's creatures have been created with a purpose and I like to think that I understand that this is their world and I am but a visitor. But my tolerance for nature begins and ends with the bushy-tailed urban menace known as sciurus carolinenis, or the eastern grey squirrel. This is not the first time that I have written about my ongoing war with the little f*&@ers. I have complained vociferously in this space on no less than five previous occasions about the havoc that these miserable rats with pelts have played on my lawn, my shrubbery, my fruit trees, my pool, my nerves and my sanity. I have regaled you the readers with stories of squirrel parties on my front lawn, the annual opening of the rodent fruit and nut buffet that usually occurs in August as a result of ripening oak and pear trees, and the smug manner in which the little bastards seem to laugh in my face, as I engage in futile attempts to relocate them to a house in a galaxy far, far away. I have read up on humane squirrel deterrents that include boiling concoctions of onions, jalapeno peppers and chili powder, (sounds like a Mexican dinner, doesn't it?) straining the mixture through a cheese cloth and spraying on squirrel surfaces. I could swear the next morning that the squirrels were wearing sombreros, shaking maracas and swinging at a miniature pinata filled with acorns and pears! Nothing works.

I am not a violent person, but I have taken to daydreaming about nuking the little shits. I have visions of a complex Rube Goldberg device that will ultimately chop their carcasses up into little bits and scatter them about like fertilizer. I see tiny little Torquemada-inspired racks on which the bastards are strung up by their almost opposable thumbs and left to twist in the wind. I envision a combination Beverly Hillbillies/Julia Child bake off in which we create our favourite squirrel recipes. I want to make gloves out their tails and give my warmed middle finger to PETA. I know! I can't believe this is me either. My left-wing sensibilities have been shattered and I am starting to believe that simply shooting them is not nearly enough. (I have never held a gun of any kind. I am one of those pinko-commie mothers who wouldn't even let her children play with water pistols. My boys shot through summer with animal facsimiles of water guns, much to their masculine dismay.) That said, I have reached my breaking point. I find myself watching this video over and over and over again, (I couldn't post it to the blog in all good conscience. When you watch it, you will understand why!) and deriving a sick sadistic pleasure from it. But best of all, I have decided to join the SDL! Yup! I am now a charter member and a regular reader of the Squirrel Defamation League! (I even purchased one of their t-shirts, which is forthcoming.)

I refuse to be beaten. I now know that there are many others out there like me-ordinary and peace loving citizens-who are simply at their wit's end. We will join together to form a squirrel-fighting militia and defeat the enemy where he stands. As Thomas Jefferson said all those years ago "As our enemies have found we can reason like men, so now let us show them we can fight like men also." If nothing else, I will go down fighting. Semper Fi! The marines have landed.


  1. You really only need to kill one. He will serve as a warning to the other squirrels. Remember nothing says "obey me" like a severed head on a pike staff!

  2. This had me laughing out loud!! Now here is somebody who appreciates my twisted sense of humour.