She's not a squirrel's friend but I'm blessed she's mine!

Pulling stuff out of my squirrel-infested shed.

I have — er, had — a squirrel problem in my shed. They are evil little twatwaffles and I knew they needed to be served an eviction notice and their little squatter asses punted out. 

There are three challenges I had before I could do that, though. I’m a little scared of rodents; OK, maybe a lot scared. I didn’t know how to get them out and squirrel proof my shed. And the biggest one: I hate asking for help. 

Before I reached out to ask,  I considered a few things. Would a slingshot get them out? A BB gun? A 22? Do I want to touch dead squirrels? Where do you put dead squirrels? Have they spread the word that my shed is the new hangout place so, even if I eradicate them, will others move in? Also, it might be just the tiniest bit hypocritical for me to not care about their lives now that My Favourite Husband (MFH) was gone. In the past, I’d make him set up a trap when the odd squirrel would consider being a resident. And then I’d make him take them for a drive. Now, however, I am willing pretend I’m tough enough to actually shoot them with something. How did this become a moral dilemma? Sigh...

And if I let them live and just get them out, how the hang I do get them to stay out? Should I just move? Winter’s coming and Mexico is nice.

But there are things in the shed I want to use. There are things in the shed I’d like to identify (car parts I think) so I should get them gone. Sigh… 

I started the eviction process a week ago, tossing in handfuls of a little something something called Critter Ridder. Supposedly, it smells like predator urine and keeps squirrels at bay temporarily. I’m thinking squirrels are scared of dinosaurs because when I opened the door of the shed, I threw so many handfuls of the stuff in there I swear it was the equivalent of a T-Rex peeing in my shed.

And it worked. Temporarily. I saw them eyeing up my shed as they sat on my fence and chirped angrily at me when I was in the backyard. I will not be voted Miss Congeniality in the squirrel world. I do not care. 

OK, they’re gone. And although I’m a smart cookie, my smarts don’t include squirrel proofing a shed. It was time to humble myself, call in the squirrel hunter (SH) and ask for help. And when I did, my amazing friend did just that. She’s fierce and fearless. 

One of the first things she said when I asked was, “It’s hard for you to ask for help, isn’t it?” 

Yup. 

“I’ll help you, those assholes don’t stand a chance!" 

(I would also imagine she didn’t want me shooting a slingshot in a metal shed either.)

Eviction Day arrived and SH strode into my backyard like the female Indiana Jones. She tucked her whip in her back pocket, crushed out her cigarillo with the heel of her boot and nodded (actually she came in with her coffee mug and jacket but she has the attitude of a badass). 

When she saw me, I think she was a little surprised I had the balls to open the shed and start pulling things out without her. Truthfully, I was surprised I had the cajones as well but I told myself it was no big deal and then opened the door, muttered “yippee kay yi yay mofos” and, armed with my trusty corn broom, went in. It probably helped that they’d already left from the Critter Ridder but still…

Anyway, we set to work pulling the contents out. 

“Do you need this?” she’d ask. 

“I’m not sure," I’d reply, “because I have no clue what it is." 

MFH and I had cleaned this shed out the summer before he died. What was left was hunting gear, car parts, a bike and lawn care items. I had no idea what was junk and what had value to anyone other than him. I’ve often thought it would be great if MFH could stop by when I really  needed his help but today he was too busy elsewhere, laughing his butt off, watching his girl. Besides, I’m sure he was thinking: I sent you the SH. True, very true.

And so we cleaned. And then we strategized. Well, SH strategized and I looked serious and nodded. She let me play with my own power tools which was fun. And we squirrel proofed that shed with boards and mesh.

We took a break at one point and one of Satan’s squirrel helpers started mouthing off. I just leaned back in my lawn chair, lipped him off then flipped him off. Chirp all you want. I have SH! 

When we finally finished, no squirrel will get into that shed. Hell, I don’t think I can even get into the shed. So yeah, job well done!

More importantly, though, I got to spend the day with a friend who means the world to me. A friend who, when I asked for help, set aside a day to laugh with me while she helped me. A friend who knew that looking at some of the stuff in the shed would be a little hard for me. A friend who didn’t get frustrated with me because I don’t know what she knows but taught me instead of telling me or doing it all herself. A friend who’s so different than me in so many ways except the ones that count. 

It is said friendship isn’t one big thing but a million little things and I love you for all of them, my friend! You’re the best!