By: Angela Gillaspie © May 2003

For two nights now, my cat Spanky has been driving me nuts. I've learned to hide all marbles, strings, and dirty socks before bedtime so that his thumps and thuds wouldn't wake everybody. Occasionally on his nightly patrols, he'd find a Cheerio, roll of toilet paper, or bug to chase and destroy.

When he kept scratching at the nursery door the other night, I figured he either wanted a) to inspect the room for evil intruders, b) to chew on the mini-blinds, or c) knock over the diaper pail and then gallop through the house like a tiny rhino. I shooed him away only to be awakened a bit later by his clawing and trilling. (By the way, trilling is a mix between a meow and a purr and it's very annoying at 3am.) Anyway, I flung a pillow at him and he finally stopped.

Last night, Spanky got under my side of the bed (where else?) and decided to play with my old magazines. Several times, I growled and swatted at him. About 4am, desperate for sleep, I decided to put him in the basement - after I made a quick visit to the restroom.

As I sat atop my throne in semi-darkness, movement from under the bathroom door caught my eye. At first, I thought it was Spanky's paw going back and forth, but when it separated from the door and headed toward me, well, I didn't know what to think.

Having 20/550 vision without glasses made it difficult to see. From what I could tell, this critter had a dark-colored four-inch oval-shaped body with a puffy three-plus-inch thing trailing behind it. I knew it wasn't a cat, mouse, or bug - on the other hand, I could tell that it was some kind of animal.

When it slid under the closet door a mere two feet away from me, I jumped on top of the toilet and debated: to scream or not to scream? Screaming would wake the baby and when given the choice between handling a cranky toddler or a rabid thing in the closet, I chose the safest route: the critter in the closet. Trying to wake my husband, I whispered, "Paul! Paul!"

Afraid that the creature would attack me from beneath the closet door, I continued to call for my snoring knight in shining armor. Giving up after a couple of minutes, I climbed on top of the bathroom counter and slid to the bathroom door. Worried about rabies, lockjaw, and miscellaneous rodent cooties, I didn't want my naked feet exposed to the thing in the closet.

I reached down, opened the door, and grunted, "PAUL!"

He jumped and fell out of bed.

"Help me! There's a ... uh ... a THING in the closet!"

Groping for his glasses (he's blind too), he gasped, "What is it, honey?"

I hopped down from the counter and ran into the bedroom, "There's a THING in the closet! I couldn't see what it was because I didn't have on my glasses, but it's HUGE and MEAN and it's an ANIMAL!"

Paul went into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and shut the door. I heard some rustling and then, "Hey - hi! Oh gosh, it's a BIG mouse - and I thought you saw another scorpion! Dang, what should I do?"

I hate mice. The mere suggestion of one nearby makes me squeal like a pig and stand on furniture. Not wanting to wake the baby, I jumped on top of the bed and hissed, "Get a broom and KILL IT or get one of those old butter tubs and set it free - I don't care! JUST GET IT OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Paul got a broom and large plastic bowl and returned to the bathroom, and I put my hand over my mouth (to keep from screaming) and waited. "Oh my GOSH! It's a baby squirrel!" he hollered from the bathroom.

I had visions of the National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation movie where the squirrel leapt from Christmas tree and terrorized everyone. I could picture Paul walking out of the bathroom saying that he couldn't find anything, and the squirrel would be sitting on his shoulder.

Several long minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom - triumphant. "Wanna see it?"

I shook my head and continued to hold my mouth, "I might scream," I explained through my fingers. Full of himself due to his squirrel-trapping prowess, Paul strut out to the back deck, gave me a big I'm-da-man grin, and set the squirrel, a Southern Flying Squirrel (glaucomys volans scareus in bathroomus), loose.

Later in the day, I called my pest control service to ask what precautions I should take to keep the flying squirrels out of my bathroom. They assured me that this visit was rare, and that the squirrel gained access through our (now-closed) fireplace damper.

Thinking back to the cat's antics over the past two nights, I wondered how long the squirrel was in my house. Hmm, how long was it under my bed? Do flying squirrels travel alone or in packs?

Living in the country is great, but from now on, I'll definitely keep up-to-date on my tetanus shot. There's no telling what the cat will chase into the bathroom next time.