There has been a squirrel digging in my plants since I moved here. Last week, I built a squirrel cage around my most vulnerable plants, and so far it has worked; he doesn’t seem to be able to squeeze through the sides to get in and dig at them. Needless to say, after the failure of countless other efforts ranging from mulching to putting nails sticking up in the soil to eating meat and then pissing around them, I was most pleased with myself.
I told my housemate yesterday how pleased I was with my success, and we talked about the house’s history with this particular squirrel a bit; apparently he is very bold and a little aggressive (which I had noticed, since he kept coming up to me while I was building the cage with a kind of “what do you think you’re doing to my plants, human” posture).
While we were talking, we both heard a crash-tinkle as of glass breaking. We looked at each other. I went outside. The squirrel was running along my countertop knocking over my orchids, my glass jars, and miscellaneous other things, which he had not previously bothered. The crash was my orchid pot breaking. I grabbed for a broom like a maddened, bearded housewife, but he vanished into the vines to cuss at me.
You have had your day, squirrel. Now–it is war.