Hinky Happenings in the Laundry Room

There’s something squirrelly going on around here.

There hasn’t been a single squirrel in our yard for a couple of weeks.  So where the heck are they? Even when they’re not here, they manage to annoy me.

This is the sad sight we’ve been  seeing every day since the week before Christmas:

That’s Granddog Ivy in constant vigil at the sunroom windows, looking for something– anything!–moving out there.  Not one furry tail, shaking provocatively.  Not one chipmunk tunneling under my peonies.  Not one sneaky tree-rat eyeing the birdfeeder.

All year long, our back yard has been amuck with squirrel pests–seven squirrels a’sneaking any time we looked out there. Now, when we really need a couple of diversions to keep Ivy entertained, where ARE the damnsquirrels???  It’s not as if they hibernate!

I have a mental picture of the little bastards packing their green dickies and climbing into their Tonka Trucks and Barbie RVs, heading out for a Griswold family Christmas.

Or else they’re hiding in our dryer vent, planning a coup.

Meanwhile, poor Ivy looks longingly out the windows for a playmate, an unfortunate state of affairs since there’s a perfectly good dog right here in the house with her:  a dog who refuses to acknowledge her existence.

Miss Piggy is busy with her New Year’s Resolution to starve Ivy out of here.  She lurks by Ivy’s food bowl and drinks her water.  While her own rawhide bone lies untouched in her bed, Miss P has gnawed Ivy’s down to a yellowed nub.

I have tried evening the score by giving hers to Ivy, but Granddog is  too polite to take it.

Dearly Beloved and I have had energy for little except unwrapping cough drops and lifting teacups, now in the third week of our attempt to fight off The Crud That Would Not Die.   Activity sets off a round of coughing, so short walks for the dogs are all we can muster between us.  We can’t even walk them at the same time.  Ivy is all enthusiasm and energy, ready to walk to South Carolina if that’s where the action is.  Miss Piggy, so bowlegged that her back legs form 0’s when she walks, wants to go only far enough to do her business, then make a U-turn back to the hacienda.

Bow-legged Cocker Grinch.

In the midst of this  soap opera of critterdom, a mystery is unfolding.

We keep Miss Piggy’s overweight management dogfood in a hinged-lidded bin in the laundry room.  Ivy’s Lamb & Rice bag sits in a corner of the kitchen near her food bowl.  The past several mornings, we have found small chunks of the plastic on the laundry room floor.  Something is trying to open the lid on the bin.

It certainly isn’t Miss Piggy’s doing.  She doesn’t even like her dry food until we put some sort of warm gravy on it.  Besides,  she’s too busy hiding under the guest room bed, gnawing on Ivy’s rawhide bone.

What is going on here at night?  Is Ivy, the dog who won’t even take an offered rawhide bone because she knows it’s not hers,  plotting revenge?  A binge with a bin of diet dogfood?

Or are more sinister forces at work?

There are no squirrels hiding in our Christmas tree.  I check regularly.  Yet, I lie in bed at night and worry if critters are involved in this.  Mice would nibble at the bag instead of the plastic bin.  So what does that leave?

Are members of The Green Dickie Gang making their way up our dryer vent in search of a midnight snack?

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9 thoughts on “Hinky Happenings in the Laundry Room

  1. John Wilder

    The squirrels are striking revenge. I say good riddance to the squirrels, they are people too.

    Blessings on you and yours
    John Wilder

  2. Ah-ha! See, not ALL of your unwelcome intruders are ignoring you!

    And, as to dog wars, Ivy demonstrates that revered old maxim: Payback is, indeed, a bitch.

  3. It leaves Raccoons! Just kidding.

    As for the squirrels? My backyard resemble yours. I have what seems to be an army of fat, happy, pain n the a** squirrels that make a constant ruckus. Suddenly I did not see or hear them. They are back! So that means that they stayed in their nests while it was cold. I guess that means we have to have regular artic temps to keep them at bay.

  4. That is just too sad with Granddog Ivy. Such a forlorn image staring out the window.
    Who ever is nibbling on the bin is at least weight conscious. Look for a “thin” something or perhaps a want to be thin something.
    I dunno.

  5. Have either of you been taking Ambien? I hear it makes people prone to “sleep-eating” with no memory of the event the next day. If you or DB have small chunks of plastic between your teeth in the morning, there’s your culprit. Gravy, anyone?

  6. Oh, so sad for the pup, but a nice reprieve for you. As for the plastic chewing that’s going on — I had a mouse that traveled from the attic to the cupboard above my stove where it proceeded to nibble away at the plastic top to my spray oil. I couldn’t think for the life of me what it could possibly be until my brave mom came over late one night when I finally heard a ruckus in the said cabinet. She lived next door and was fearless when it came to getting rid of varmints. Somehow she managed to corner the beast in the cupboard as I ran screaming from the kitchen. Never ask for the details, but I also never saw that mouse again!

    Happy Squirreless New Year! Wish I could say they won’t be back, but hey, a break is always nice when you’re under the weather.

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