My daughter was calling.
“Mom, we’re at your house and something is very weird.” My children
check on our home when we are away for the winter.
“I’m sending you pictures.” One by one via text, photos appear.
“What the heck!’ I responded. “There are broken items all over the place!”
“Yes, do you think someone broke in?” she asks.
“Maybe you should call the police.”
An hour later . . .
“Mom, the sheriff thinks it was a squirrel. All of the damage is in
the perimeter of the rooms, like it was trying to get out and couldn’t
figure out how it got in. We’ll clean up the mess.”
“Thanks. I will call our pest control company and see if they can
find the squirrel.”
They come, set up traps and a few days and a few hundred dollars
later, no squirrel. My son sets up a trap just in case and when we
get home over a month later, still no squirrel.
A month after we get home . . .
My husband is urgently calling me from upstairs. He found the
squirrel in the guest bedroom, snuggled in between the decorative
pillows on the bed. He was as stiff as a board (the squirrel, not my
husband) and looked like he died peacefully. There was an odor in the
room, which we never noticed as we almost never go into that room.
There were a few maggots as well.
New sheets and fumigation and now the room is again ready to receive
guests. However, when we tell this story, people say they’d rather
stay in a hotel.