The Squirrel Goes or I Go

The Squirrel Goes or I Go

My husband has become obsessed with the neighborhood squirrels. Plural. It started with one, of course, which he called Tom. Tom, who turned out to be a girl, also turned out to be a gateway squirrel.

I am now routinely woken up to squeaking noises because the squirrels, who I believe strongly are plotting to take over our apartment, have figured out which room we sleep in and how to climb up to look in the window.

Tom, the biggest of the squirrels, will – I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP – come to the sliding glass door whenever she can see my husband, stand on her hind legs and press her front paws and nose to the glass.

“Why?” you ask.

Because my husband is the neighborhood peanut dealer. He hands out legumes like the fuzzy, tetanus-carrying rodents are trick-or-treating. They come. They squeak. They press their noses to the glass. He hands them a peanut.

Tom will take the peanut from my husband’s hand, which is probably very, very bad for a number of reasons. (PETA is coming for him.) But what’s bad for ME – and isn’t that the point? – is that sometimes my husband leaves the door open, and Tom COMES INSIDE.

Just a few steps inside, I admit, but when there’s a wild, man-eating animal in your house, you really don’t talk about degrees.

I had no idea this was happening for awhile. Then one morning, I came around the corner, found a wild animal on my carpet and reacted a lot like you’d expect in that situation.


Okay, maybe that’s how you should react when you find an alligator in your apartment. Or at least a baby hippo, which I understand are more dangerous than the childhood board game would have us believe. But I am not – NOT – in favor of this development.

Tom and I are going to have to have a talk – woman to woman. She is not going to take my man. Or my apartment.

The peanuts are negotiable.


  • Susan

    23.04.2011 at 11:57

    as your mother in law I suppose some where many years ago I should have mentioned the family history of hand feeding SQUIRRELS. it never occurred to me in the middle of LA there would be plenty of squirrels for him to bond with. For a bit of REASSURANCE my grandfather got bit a few times and still lived a long life. Just think about it. You now have a pet which lives outdoors 99% of the time.

    p.s. not sure why this is in all caps. it is not my caplock.

  • Keith Raffel

    23.04.2011 at 15:29

    Ash, hERE’S MY ANSWER TO YOUR PROBLEM. iF LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS, MAKE LEMONADE. hERE is a link to a recipe for squirrel stew:

  • Eric

    24.04.2011 at 13:38

    keith, I would venture a guess that your average Los angeles urban squirrel makes for a bit funkier of a stew than a nice organic woodland squirrel. some people might like that sort of thing, but i figure it must be an acquired taste.