There is a squirrel in my house. So that’s happening.

So this was my mid-morning. The joys of working from home.

Scuppers caught a squirrel, but failed to kill it. He did, however, bring it through the cat door (of course) while it shrieked like a banshee. Since El Cap’s at work, the job of getting the squirrel out of the house fell to me. What followed was some twisted episode of Wild Kingdom. But not the happy family feasting on prairie grass, if you know what I mean. Here’s what happened after the squirrel entered my home and my life:

To his credit, Scuppers did drop it when I started shrieking at him. However, Calypso caught it. Seems she can’t differentiate between her EarthDog work and a squirrel. To her credit, she dropped it on my command. Several times. The squirrel, for its part, fled like an East German going over the wall. 
At some point in the race around my dining room – me, Calypso, Scuppers, and the squirrel – I notice the squirrel has a hurt leg, so of course I try and chase it into a paper bag. Fail. Scuppers is very puzzled at this point, so he tries to stalk the squirrel, ostensibly to help me, until I yell at him. I try to get the squirrel in a laundry basket. Squirrel escapes from laundry basket. I catch squirrel in laundry basket again, block handle openings with two liquor decanters. Squirrel contemplates getting drunk, decides can muscle through paw pain. 
I kick Scuppers out of house, close cat door from inside. Put Calypso on leash, walk her to Mayor Sam’s, because that household is all about Emergency Squirrel Rescue. No answer. Call. No answer. Call El Cap. No answer. Text mayor. No answer. Call Shelly for advice, because I’m running out of people and she wrote that whole Squirrel Key thing and I figure “Why not?” 
She tells entire Gabber staff I have a squirrel in my house, “because of course.” No one tries to hide snickering. No one has cage. I hang up, remember I have cat crate in garage. 
Put towel, peanut, water in crate. Squirrel unappreciative, refuses to move from under basket. I try to nudge basket towards crate. Squirrel, of course, escapes. Calypso goes nuts on porch. Squirrel runs in coat closet, hides behind vacuum. I move vacuum. We really need to vacuum more in the coat closet; injured squirrel now covered in dust bunnies. I try to shoo squirrel into carrier with Sports section of the Tribune. Squirrel prefers Times, tries to climb paper. Second attempt gets Squirrel in carrier. 
Resting peaceably now. Texted mayor’s daughter, who is in school. She suggests texting her dad. 
It’s not even noon, y’all. I feel obliged to note that Gulfport election days always get a little weird, but never like this. Well, never until now. 

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I write. I take pictures. I love my dog. I love Florida. My 2016 book, 'Backroads of Paradise' did really well for the publisher and now I feel a ridiculous amount of pressure to finish the second book.