Michael went back to work this week and I am on a Tuesday/Thursday work day schedule. It has just been me, the dog and the chickens in this house this week. Some time the cat rolls and complains about the teaspoon of food that is missing from his already full bowl of food. Mostly it has been pretty quiet and kind of great. I play whatever music I want on Alexa. I only have my own dishes to wash at lunch time. No one gives me side-eye when I start dancing like Elaine Benes and I can plop my yoga mat down anywhere I want. Occasionally I look over from my desk to the window that used to house an air conditioning unit. I have a clear view of the chickens being chickens. It’s a nice view.

Except when it’s not.

Wednesday, I stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the kitchen window while I drank a kale and watermelon smoothie. I saw something dart around inside the chicken pen. A squirrel had gotten inside. The door was wide open, but this dummy started freaking out and literally bounced off the walls trying to find an escape. I just stood there watching and thinking surely the little guy will figure it out. Then I watched all four chickens walk into the pen to investigate. All four chickens ran out of their own pen squawking as that squirrel went on the defensive. Just as I set my smoothie down, Josephine headed out the door. She was inside the pen before I could stop her and the next few minutes were minutes of horror as I watched my sweet Josephine catch that squirrel and then shake it until it was mostly dead. I told her to take it out of the pen and then she trotted proudly out with the squirrel hanging out of her mouth and headed to the back door. I yelled “DON’T TAKE IT INSIDE!” She dropped it and then laid down next to it with a smug look of satisfaction.

I could see that the squirrel was still breathing, but there was no miraculous recovery going to happen here. I went inside and sent a text to Sarah and Jeff, my co-workers I chat with daily. I told them what happened and the squirrel wasn’t dead and I didn’t know what to do. Jeff replied first with “Finish it off. Get a shovel!” My shoulders slumped and I felt a little sick. Jeff was right. I was going to have to finish that squirrel off. I looked out the window to see Josephine tossing the limp body up into the air like it was her new best toy and then I gathered some supplies. By the time I made it back to the yard, the poor creature had finally stopped breathing. All that was left was scooping its body into a garbage bag. This, I know how to do. The cat’s given me apple experience with cleaning up the dead. I might just need to add ‘good at cleaning up the dead’ to my resume.

Look squirrels, you’re just not safe in this yard. Enter at your own risk.