When I’ve breathed my last breath, when my number is up, when I arrive at the pearly gates, I think I’m going to have to give an accounting for a couple of untimely deaths.
(I’m assuming I’ll get a pass on all those ants. You-know-who may have thought they were a good idea when He created them, but surely in the intervening time He has come to the conclusion, like most of us, that in some cases you can have too much of a good thing. At least that’s what I’m counting on.)
The deaths of which I speak affected creatures a little higher up on the food chain, specifically a squirrel and a chipmunk.
I’m hoping I can be forgiven for this one because I started out with the best of intentions. We owned a cat and a gerbil. (I know–poor planning, but sometimes timing is everything.) We kept the gerbil in my son’s room with the lid tightly attached and a book on top to secure it. We kept his door closed all the time. The kitty knew the room held pleasures that she could only imagine. But we were on top of the situation.
What, you may be asking, does this have to do with a squirrel? Stay with me.
We hired some painters to paint the exterior of our house. The head honcho was a nice guy who happened to really like cats. (He was actually the person who told me our furball was a Maine coon cat.) I trusted him to be mindful of where the cat was in the house as various windows were opened and closed so our precious feline wouldn’t escape.
And so I left on my errands.
What I forgot to mention was the gerbil stashed in my son’s room.
After an hour or so as I was motoring around I suddenly realized that my son’s door would most likely be left open and young gerbil’s life was at risk. Speaking of risk, I knew I had to go home immediately to right the situation and so made some road maneuver not covered in the DMV manual. Fortunately, no policemen were watching. Unfortunately, a squirrel was making a move of his own at the same time. I felt the thud as the car hit him. I actually didn’t see his limp little body in the road, and can only assume he made it into the woods to die. (But–just maybe–he was okay, right?)
Anyway, I got home in time to save the gerbil, but I’ve got to live with this squirrel on my conscience now.
I put water in a big plastic bin and added Chlorox. I used the mixture to clean our outdoor furniture and recycle bins. When I finished, I hesitated to just dump the water out as it contained Chlorox. I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I killed a patch of grass. So I left it to deal with later.
Shortly thereafter we had company and my husband moved this large container off to the side. Out of sight, out of mind. Several weeks passed.
My dear hubby cleaned up the mess. This is what husbands are for.
It might be a bit of a stretch, but I’m hoping when I have to account for my actions, he will share part of the blame with me. Again, I’m thinking this is what husbands are for.