Back in the days of lock-ins and fund raisers, when I earned my living by herding cats...er...pastoring teenagers, there was a time when the local church staff had to go against every evangelistic instinct within us and try to get fewer bodies in the building for worship.
To be specific, one fewer body...and even more specifically, we're talking about a squirrel. Not just any squirrel, but a squirrel that we had repeatedly chased out of the building, tried to capture and relocate, and even attempted to convert to Judaism so it would go to the synagogue down the street.
But Rocky, as we came to refer to the rascally rodent, was having none of it. He kept infiltrating and infuriating.
(Okay...I know this picture is more likely to be a chipmunk than a squirrel, seeing as how there's no fluffy tail visible. Try to cope with it.)
The final straw came one day when we had him cornered in the church's nursery.
We opened the window and made an exit ramp with the screen, giving the trespasser every chance in the world to escape, but nooooo.... I finally decided that enough was enough (demonstrating my amazing grasp of the concept of equality) and entered the fray.
That's right, I placed myself in harm's way, facing down the snarling nut-muncher with no weapon but the garden trowel I had found in the church secretary's purse/knapsack.
Rocky actually did snarl at me, feigned to the right, then scampered to the left, flinging himself into one of the cribs. I rushed over and started pounding on him with the trowel, which did nothing but bounce him up and down, irritate him, and make him slightly nauseous.
In his attempt to escape the crib, Rocky tried jumping through the railings, but was stopped by his massive shoulders, leaving his head exposed and vulnerable. I seized the opportunity to administer several eventually-lethal blows, while the secretary stood in the hallway...watching and wincing.
The next Sunday morning, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a lone squirrel, standing at the church's front doors on its back feet, peering into the building as if to say, "I saw him go in here, but he hasn't come out." (True truth!) Could almost hear high-pitched voices in the bushes taunting, "Go on! I dare you to knock on the door and ask about Rocky!"
I know all this sounds rather harsh and violent, but let me tell you two things: 1) We never had any more critter problems; and 2) from that point on, the church secretary treated me with an elevated attitude of respect...but from a distance. Hmmm...
To be specific, one fewer body...and even more specifically, we're talking about a squirrel. Not just any squirrel, but a squirrel that we had repeatedly chased out of the building, tried to capture and relocate, and even attempted to convert to Judaism so it would go to the synagogue down the street.
But Rocky, as we came to refer to the rascally rodent, was having none of it. He kept infiltrating and infuriating.
The final straw came one day when we had him cornered in the church's nursery.
We opened the window and made an exit ramp with the screen, giving the trespasser every chance in the world to escape, but nooooo.... I finally decided that enough was enough (demonstrating my amazing grasp of the concept of equality) and entered the fray.
That's right, I placed myself in harm's way, facing down the snarling nut-muncher with no weapon but the garden trowel I had found in the church secretary's purse/knapsack.
Rocky actually did snarl at me, feigned to the right, then scampered to the left, flinging himself into one of the cribs. I rushed over and started pounding on him with the trowel, which did nothing but bounce him up and down, irritate him, and make him slightly nauseous.
In his attempt to escape the crib, Rocky tried jumping through the railings, but was stopped by his massive shoulders, leaving his head exposed and vulnerable. I seized the opportunity to administer several eventually-lethal blows, while the secretary stood in the hallway...watching and wincing.
The next Sunday morning, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a lone squirrel, standing at the church's front doors on its back feet, peering into the building as if to say, "I saw him go in here, but he hasn't come out." (True truth!) Could almost hear high-pitched voices in the bushes taunting, "Go on! I dare you to knock on the door and ask about Rocky!"
I know all this sounds rather harsh and violent, but let me tell you two things: 1) We never had any more critter problems; and 2) from that point on, the church secretary treated me with an elevated attitude of respect...but from a distance. Hmmm...
2 comments:
It's a chipmunk--there's a stripe ;)
Awesome story. You're def a comedian, Dewey. :D
and I remember the squirrel looking in the front door...cause I saw him first...so funny...
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