My daughter came down this morning to find the Little Girls in the living room, taking turns killing and rekilling a squirrel that had made its way into the house. It got in yesterday and was scurrying around my room on the lower level when I got home. It had gotten in before so I knew it could find its way out, so I didn’t make much stink. I mean, it would quiet down at bedtime, didn’t seem to chew or crap on anything, and didn’t give me fleas–all around, a pretty good pet as my pets go. I named him Squirrel Nutcase and told him, “You found your way in. You can find your way out. Just don’t go upstairs.” Except he did.
I’ve told of my Little Girls before, how they were Shih Tzu/Westie crosses whose breeder had tried to dwarfinate by keeping them in a one-dog travel case for the first three years of their lives. We worried they would break their soft, misshapen bones and be crazy from their confinement, but they toughened up and took over the house, except not in that order (our other dog needed and wanted an Alpha to boss him around, and they obliged immediately). They are nice like Shih Tzus but have Terrier teeth and they know how to, and like to, use them. I asked my daughter if she was afraid or sad watching Mr Nutcase die over and over.
“No! It was hilarious. One would give it a shake and spit it out, then the other would give it a shake and spit it out.” Ah, that’s our girl!
So, have any of your pets dealt with unwanted guests in the house?
I was so proud of my cat, the least like of them to hunt. She reared up to a house centipede on the wall and slammed it hard. It fell but I guess it lived.
One of the male cats, if I squirrel got in I’d expect to see it alive. Flayed. Crying for me to finish it. The suffering would please him.
They also go apeshit over moths and such. When I had a winged termite infestation, the dog did well. I’d point and he’d gobble them up. He otherwise shows little interest in bugs and such. He’s almost 5 and last night was the first time he ever showed interest in a laser pointer.
When I was in my larval years, I had a pet male dachshund. He was a mostly indoor dog, especially at night. He wanted to be inside where all the other people were.
One day, a desert tortoise wandered by and sat in the ivy just outside the gate. He discovered it, and made a massive fuss and racket inside the gate, and tried to dig under it to get to the tortoise.
We brought the tortoise into the yard. Our dachshund adopted it. For the next week or two, he refused to take his eyes off it. He stayed outside all night with it. One day, the gardener tried to pick it up and move it, so he could mow the lawn, and the dachshund took a flying lunge at his face. (ETA: Other than that, he was a gregarious lovable doggy who had never been aggressive to anyone, before or since.)
This was in a citified residential neighborhood. We guessed that it was someone’s pet tortoise that escaped from some nearby yard. It was certainly someone’s pet, as the back of its shell was painted gold colored. After about a week, a little neighbor kid from several houses away came by looking for it.
The cat currently living here is big enough to easily dispatch a squirrel but I don’t think I could count on her. The few times a beetle or moth has crawled or flown her way, she’s seemed more offended than anything else. I guess it would be like going to stay in a hotel and finding a roach in the mini-fridge or something. So if small insects are already a violation of her high standards, were she to find a squirrel, I think I should be more concerned for my own safety.
That’s how I found what may have been their first mouse. Laid at my feet, it was licked naked and was squeaking plaintively, while the Little Girls looked so proud. I used this to teach that daughter how to put a mouse out of its misery.
This story more or less fits the spirit here, though certainly not the letter:
Two years ago, a large underground colony of yellowjackets got established in a flower bed near my front door. I’m a reasonably conscientious “live and let live” guy, so I tried to tolerate them. But three times - with zero provocation - I was stung on my way into the house. I resolved that this was the limit - one more sting and Serious Measures would be taken.
The problem was solved for me, that night. A skunk found the colony, dug it up and thoroughly destroyed it (no doubt for food). The next morning I found a few dozen dazed survivors wondering where their fellow insects had got to - but even these were gone later that day.
My cat wakes me up if he sees a moth on the wall, up high, and wants me to swat it down for him. Ugh.
Sort of off topic, but one day I was standing in the kitchen, when he came in proudly carrying a still wriggling mouse. Head high, he walks past his food dish, noticed I had just filled it, does a second take, and drops the mouse to partake of his dinner. Said mouse ran into the living room and under the couch. Lovely.
We had a cat who ate flies and who also ate a brown rat that was nearly a foot long on the middle of the kitchen floor.
Then there was the cat who brought a bat into the house. My mother threw a salad bowl over it, got my dad to open a window, and chucked it back out. For weeks I teased my parents: “Have you had your rabies shots? Are you turning into vampires yet?”