The squirrels came back. Odds are, they never left. BECAUSE I CANT FIND THE G.D. HOLE THEY ARE COMING INTO.
Someone, not me, but perhaps a neighbor who had evil intentions, that I had no idea about, set six traps. Six. I won’t tell you how many were “Have A Heart And I Don’t Know How To Release You So That You Don’t Return” and how many were “You Are Dead And Good Riddance”–but let’s just say it’s possible that there were 5 in the latter category.
I reiterate – the last thing I would want to do is take a life. But the house is already wrecked, and no one can find their entry point to the farmhouse, so the current fix is traps. I don’t need chewing on top of the constant disintegrating. WHY WONT THEY LEAVE ON THEIR OWN? THEY ARE SO CUTE. LEAVE ON YOUR OWN DAMN IT!
And so I wait, hoping they will run away. If they could read, I would make up signs: PLEASE DO NOT GO NEAR THE TRAPS. GO LIVE IN SOMEONE ELSE’S HOUSE.