So, we have flying squirrels in our attic - decidedly different from normal brown squirrels. Smaller, more mouse/bat like with little black marbles for eyes, nocturnal, the obvious flap of furry skin between their front and back paws, smaller tail. You get the idea.
So we have a trapper helping us get them and plug the holes in the attic to limit future egress (oooooo, fancy term - but he used it).
So when it is clear that Game 4 of the ALCS is going to go into extra innings, I tell my 6 year-old that it is time for bed and get ready to march him upstairs. But first, I tell him that he has to take his empty glass into the kitchen.
He goes it and snaps on the light - “Dad - there a SQUIRREL in the kitchen!!” he shouts. I go in and there in the corner by the back door, trapped as much by the light as anything, is Mr. Squirrel. About as big as a teacup.
Mr. Squirrel starts flitting about, looking for a path of escape. My son wants to check him out and my cat - 14 year old Mike the Cat - enters the room and takes interest. Oh shit. Mr. S flits into the bathroom off the kitchen; I shut the door and grab Mike the Cat and Jake and get them upstairs, where my wife is in bed doing a crossword puzzle.
“Honey - there’s a flying squirrel in the kitchen”
“WHAT?!”
“Look, I can’t talk right now - please keep an eye on Mike and get Jake to bed”
“WHAT?!”
On the way downstairs, I grab a bathtowel from the linen closet. I go into the bathroom. No squirrel. I know they are nocturnal and bat-like, so I begin looking in any crevices I can see; sure enough, leaning over and looking up under the pedestal sink, there’s Mr. S looking right down at me, completely freaked (like I’m not?). I go out, grab a wooden spoon from a drawer, go back in, shut the door and then slowly put the spoon up into the crevice under the back of the sink.
In about 4 seconds, Mr. S plops out of the crevice and begins to flit about again. In about 30 seconds I am able to smother him with the towel and control him with one hand. Wimp that I am, I take him out the back door and flip him into the bushy area past our yard.
Oy.