I have said it before and I will howl it with my last gasping breath.....
SQUIRRELS ARE THE DEMON SPAWN!!!
They aren't cute. They aren't cuddly. They are in fact a protected urban menace who have wreaked havoc and untold amounts of damage upon every neighbourhood and civic centre in the western world. We here in the Great White North live under some misguided illusion that we are under attack from Raccoon Nation; midnight bandits who selfishly help themselves to our unsecured trash cans, when in fact our vigilance is misplaced and should be directed toward the bushy-tailed rodents whose mischief runs much deeper than mere rotting garbage.
I honestly didn't think it was possible to hate the little beasts more than I already did.
Over the years, I have regaled you all with stories of the trashing of our yard, the soiling of our pool, the destruction of our tree-line, the disfigurement of our fences, the holes in our roof, the eating away of our attic insulation, the ruination of our chimneys, the Squirrel Olympics that are run across the eaves outside of our bedroom window every morning at dawn, and the piece de resistance...finally coming face to face with one of the little bastards as he taunted us from our bedroom stairs last summer.
He just sat there.
He stared at me with those beady little squirrel eyes, and while I can't be certain of it, I am pretty sure he was giggling.
Despite all of our precautions, the little assholes had finally made their way inside the house, and were absolutely planning a total squirrel domination. We could hear them partying inside the kitchen walls and ceiling and I could swear I heard one of them say the word RAVE.
That little incident was last summer, and while the mangy creeps were humanely removed to a squirrel witness protection program, (I would have hung the little bastards from the fence as a warning to his brethren) the lasting effects of their visit wouldn't be entirely understood until yesterday.
In November I told a story in this space of the massive waterfall that flowed into my kitchen when my wonderful cleaning lady had attempted to sanitize the upstairs bathroom. We closed off the room until we could ascertain the source of the leak. Knowing that the bathroom hadn't been renovated or repaired during the lifespan of the house, we reasonably concluded that the bathtub had rusted through and would need to be either repaired or replaced. Our Trusty Contractor confirmed our suspicions, and while we were not thrilled at the prospect of a bathroom renovation, we knew that this was a "must-do" overhaul if we ever wanted to sell this dump at a future date. After much hemming and hawing, we finally embarked upon the most basic of bathroom makeovers this week.
As Trusty Contractor removed the old cast-iron tub, he discovered that it was indeed rusted completely through. He was somewhat puzzled, however. He remarked that while the rusting would indeed account for some water flowing into the kitchen, it really didn't explain the torrents. But, he has seen a lot in his career, and anything is possible.
Yesterday he had a "Come to Jesus" moment and he couldn't wait to share it with us. The pipe that serves as the water outtake from the tub, was completely severed. He couldn't believe it. It was as if somebody had deliberately cut it in half. He told us that while it was possible it occurred during the kitchen renovations eight years prior, it didn't make much sense that nobody would have noticed it. And....we told him that while the tub hadn't been used since last November, it certainly had been functional up until eighteen months ago when Younger Son and His B'shert resided here.
It was left to The Husband to solve the mystery. Could the damage have possibly been caused by a.......SQUIRREL?
You be the judge.
Notice the chew marks? Yup...those are squirrel teeth.
Well...our previously simple bathroom repair will now require us cutting open the kitchen ceiling in order to replace this pipe, re-plastering the ceiling, and repainting it as well. These f***ing animals are costing us $$$$$$ totalling more than five figures.
Still think they're cute and fuzzy?
I am at the point of surrender. They want the house, that much is certain. Ok. They can have the house.
Just leave me my dignity.