There were rats and cats and elephants...

O.K. perhaps that's not entirely accurate, but I do feel like our house has become Wildlife Central. For a while now we have been dealing with squirrels in our attic. Part of the charm of having an old house. I love the tin roof, but apparently when it was built, they didn't make the roof come all the way down. There is a slight gap around the attic perimeter. (I haven't actually braved the Ladder of Death, Doom and Certain Peril to see it firsthand, but I have it on good, corroborated authority.) I'm sure this is great for ventilation, but it stinks for squirrel control. We didn't realize the extent of the problem until we cleaned out the old nests, so until we can get the whole thing fixed, we have Squirrel Nutkin's Home for Wayward Rodents upstairs.

We also discovered earlier in the summer that the pretty little stray who had her kittens under our house and then disappeared when they grew up, has decided we have a wonderful environment for raising her young. She showed up again looking as if she were going to deliver any day. Sure enough, we were eating dinner one evening when we heard this strange sound each time the air conditioner came on. After a few times, I figured out that we were hearing wee kitten voices. Momma Kitty had made her nest under the house right next to the ductwork and the noise startled the babies, so marshmallow that I am, I turned off the unit. I figured we could handle a little more heat better than those poor babies could handle the extra stress. They relocated before the oppressive heat moved in, so everything was good.

I had just come to grips with the squirrels in the attic and the cats under the house when our trashcan got broken into. It was a lovely, pungent aroma that greeted us when we opened the front door and found the top bags delicatley ripped open and the contents lovingly strewn about the walkway. They must have been the kitchen bags that were tossed in when I cleaned out the fridge. My husband was quick to blame the aforementioned cats, but I pointed out that it looked more like raccoon damage to me. Our trashcan is the basic, town-issued garbage bin with wheels and a lid that flips closed, not exactly your toughest challenge for the local fauna. Dear Man came up with an inspired solution to the problem.

Now bear in mind that we live in the mountains. We are at the top of the Parkway and regularly have to wait for deer, raccoons, groundhogs, beavers, skunks and the occasional bear to clear the road, even in town. Every year my friend who lives a block away has to wage war with a bear over the contents of her own trashcan. The deer decimate her flowerbed while waiting for the twin fawns to finish napping. Her cats no longer have food and a litter box on the screened porch because the raccoons inevietably win that wrestling match. As a matter of fact, I have frequently seen a pair of raccoons scurry into the storm drain just around the corner from our own house. Raccoons are known for their problem-solving skills. They are clever and are able to use their front paws almost like opposable thumbs. Our next step to shut down the midnight buffet in our front yard? A half a brick on top of the garbage lid. I'm pretty sure I heard chuckling under the porch as we went back inside. Amazingly enough, when they were again desperate, they re-opened the snack bar.

A few nights later, one of the stray cats got back on the porch and were rummaging around, knocking stuff over. I startled him when I opened to door to retrieve something from the car. He headed for cover in the far corner and I saw just the tip of his fluffy tail as he scurried off. I said, "Oh, it must be offspring of the long-hair that I've seen around. I'll get a better look," and shone the flashlight in the corner to see. I found the fluffy tip of his tail and followed it up thinking, "Hmm... that's a little fluffier than I thought. It must be one of the black and white cats... ummm.... that doesn't look so cat-shaped... oh goody, stripes. OK, Pepe, you just enjoy that corner of the porch. See me? See how I'm easing down the farthest side of the steps in an extremely non-threatening way? You just take your time..." Great. Add one more to the local wildlife tally.