Later today, while Greg and Alyson are out and Joel is sleeping, I hear this high-pitched skee-ing coming from the yard. Also, one of the cats is REALLY INTERESTED in the woodpile. So I go outside to see if I can rescue the wee birdie I assume is trapped in there, BUT NO! It is no birdie. It is a perversely stupid squirrel, and it's stuck behind the woodpile, and it keeps skee-skee-ing and there's nowhere I can go on the property where I can't hear it, and I want it gone.
But this was before I was angry at it, and still wanted to lend it a hand. So I start Jenga-ing pieces of wood out of the pile where I think the squirrel is, and I clear a little path to him and stand back, holding the cats, so that he can leave. But he doesn't.
So I Jenga out another hole, and start poking him from that hole in the hopes he'll run out the first hole. He stumbles and scrambles and tangles himself further into the woodpile.
This goes on for a while, me making holes for him to escape, and him not escaping, and the cats hissing and trying to get at him, and me making more holes, and Babs standing around being cute but useless.
Finally, I get fed up with him not escaping, and start threading the cats into the holes so that they can bat at him or eat him or something. Anything, really, because this squirrel is too stupid to live, and also the sound he is making is shredding my pancreas. I think about pushing the entire woodpile up against the wall and crushing him, because I am that angry, but the woodpile is fifteen feet wide and I haven't got enough arms and also, there are spiders.
Finally I make a little hole wide enough for him so I can see his ratty little face and his fat, stupid body, and I round up the cats and drag them inside, and ten minutes later the skee-skee stops.
I take back every nice thing I've ever said about squirrels.