Critter Jitters

I realize it's hot outside, but the critters have got to stop coming inside my house! I'm not running a Critter Sitter Service.

The green grass snake  this weekend is welcome in the yard--NOT my hallway where I first spied him. I think he was displaced and confused after the grass was cut. But he sure didn't want to follow my instruction to return outside--he raised up as if to strike me several times as I very gently guided him back outside with my broom.

Now, I have the back door slightly ajar while I sit at the table reading a book waiting for Moggy to return home after his catting around (he's been fixed since he was just a tiny baby, but it never put a damper on his fighting or his roaming). He usually makes it back to the back door between 10pm and 2am. Every once in a while he will meow for me to let him in at the front door.  

It's 11pm and I'm just about ready to give up on Moggy, and go lock the door.  He can be an outside cat tonight. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement. Thinking Moggy has come in quitely, I look up and see a small opossum in my house just feet away from me!

I wasn't excepting to see a wild critter (even a cute and harmless one). Startled, I gave a little yelp.  Of course BabyO ran.

The sad thing is he was so fast disappearing around the corner I'm not sure he went back outside.

Bandit cautiously sniffed around the vanity and one of the closets in my bedroom, so I checked them out, and under the bed. I didn't see him, so I hoped he made it back outside.

Nope.  As I sat here typing this, he showed up again! The nerve! 

This time I saw him dash into the guest bath room. I quickly shut him inside. I got the baby gate and set it up. I closed all the doors except the one leading outside. Then I turned off all the lights except the outside light. I opened the bathroom door and told BabyO to "go toward the light."

He did not.

I reached for my trusty critter broom  (aka the soft dust mop) and gave him a soft nudge. He went behind the covered cat litter box. The bathroom was too dark for me, so I turned the bathroom light back on and I manuvered myself kinda-sorta behind him as best I could in the tight space, and once again encouraged him to, "go toward the light," and gently nudged him in the way he should go.

He raced out the bathroom door, turned right at the babygate just before he would have hit it and, rather than heading down the hallway to the open door, took another right--toward my bedroom.
I'm glad I closed all the doors. When he realize he could not return to my bedroom, he scampered out the back door.

Of course, Moggy still has not returned for the night, and now I'm on edge. Hearing every bump and creak at the back door, I jump up and look to see if it's Moggy or BabyO. So far it's been neither.

Its now 1:30am. The house is cool. Moggy has come home. The baby gate and broom have been moved to the back door in case I need them when I open the door again on the morning.  He was somewhat stymied by the baby gate--he just hasn't realized  both he and Bandit can clear it from a standing position.

Everyone has had their dinner and meds. I've picked grass burs out of Moggys coat. Bandit has been out for his bedtime potty break.  Fresh water has been put out for the second time tonight since one of the FurBoys knocked it over earlier.

Moggy, Bandit, and I are past ready for bed...and the back door bumped--since Moggy is inside now, I know it's just the airflow from the air  conditioner but the critter visit still has me a little on edge.

And then I heard a noise in the kitchen...maybe it wasn't one of the FurBoys that knocked over the water dish earlier...

Uninvited Houseguests

Over my lifetime I have had some pretty undesirable jobs. But they were honest jobs and the low wages I earned allowed me to pay my bills, put food on the table, gas in my car, clothes on my body, receive a college education, and travel.  I may not travel first class, wear designer clothes,  dine in fancy restaurants,  or live in a mansion, but as long as I don't splurge and live outside my means, I do okay.

Some of my less than glamerous jobs included:
Baby sitter, lawn work, toilet cleaner, waitress, stable hand, office cleaning lady, identification checker, and gas station attendent. 

I know the importance of everyone to ensure a business, organization, or even household run smoothly. It takes everyone doing their part. Sure, the head honcho sets the tone, makes hard decisions, makes some friends, and sometimes makes even more enemies. But everyone is important.

I've lived my whole life believing that. It's why I acknowledge people performing services society may deem as less desirable than my own. I say "thank you" when the housekeeper empties my trashcan, or a waitress fills my drink. I remember those paychecks that barely covered the bills. I think remembering how hard I worked is one of the reasons I'm a fairly generous tipper.

But I draw the line at moochers. 

In the last few months I've had to shew several uninvited houseguests out. I don't like being mean. Really, I don't.   But unless I've invited you in, don't step across my threshold. 

It started innocently enough: the wasp built his home on the side of my mailbox. I knocked it down. He rebuilt. In the same spot. I knocked it down again and told him he had a choice to make: move away and live free, or rebuild there and I would purchase wasp killing spray. He moved away.

Next came the spider. He decided my back doorway was the perfect spot for his web. I knocked it down. He respun. I knocked it down again and told him he had a choice: move away and live free, or respin his web across my door, and I would purchase spider killing spray. He moved away.

And on it went. The loopy toed lizard, the chamelian couple, and a toad, all found their way into my house. Each time I captured the creature, and gently released them outside. Where they belong. I even ensured Moggy was not around to antagonize them. Or worse.

As I released them I said,  "No amount of pleading will make me change my mind. I'm allowing you to live--outside--where you belong.  Where your job is. You have a choice: leave and live, or stay and die. Please leave. I do not want houseguests."

I do not know if the wasps who built the nest near the backdoor are related to the one that moved away. It doesn't matter. They have attempted to come inside several times. Soon, they will be moving away. Or dying. I don't want uninvited houseguests.

I don't think the spider I found in my bathtub is the one that spun the web over my back doorway--he looks much larger. The cool of the air conditioner has not slowed him down. He moves far too fast for me. It pains me to think it; however, he may not receive the same offer of a chance at life outside. I've seen the necrotic skin and tissue devastation spider bites can cause and I'm not picking him up.

The chameleon couple and the loopy-toed lizzard made their way back inside my house. I'm not sure if Moggy brought them back in, or if they came back in of their own accord, but they were all slow. Much too slow. Perhaps the coolness was too much for them. Perhaps Moggy toyed with them.

One chameleon made it back outside. The other appeared to be dead--he lay rigid in the spot Moggy had lain earlier. Could Moggy have smothered him? I would have thought he would bat him around.

Whatever happened, when I placed him outside, he remained in the same position the rest of the day and was gone the next morning. I hoped he revived and skittered away.
Or his mate was a Marine who left no one behind. But in my heart I'm pretty sure a predator found an easy meal. Part of the circle of life. I felt bad, but you take your chances when you become my uninvited houseguest.

The second time the loopy-toed lizzard made it's way inside he was as slow as he was the first time. This time I noticed dark markings on his torso. I didn't remember him having a dark marking on his torso before.  Do lizzards bruise? He could be injuried. But when I released him outside, he skittered away very quickly. Much more quickly than the first time. Last time I put him outside near a saucer of water. This time I did not have time fill a saucer--as soon as his claws hit the concrete he skittered away. Perhaps he was a different loopy-toed lizzard. I told the absent space where he had been he needed to remain outside if he wanted to live. I don't want him as a houseguest.

My latest uninvited houseguest was a first, and hopefully last, visit inside by a green grass snake. Nonvenomous. Bug eatting. Great garden or lawn companion. Very mich meeded on the hreat putdoors.  But not wanted as my houseguest.

He too slithered rather slowly. Again, I am unsure if his lethargy was due to the cold air or an over exuberant cat.

I gently swept him out the back door.  But not without his attempts to circle back--at first they were comical--almost like an I Love Lucy eppisode. That soon gave way to annoyance as my back and knees started speaking to me. "This has gone on long enough,"  I told him. "You are going to live the rest of your days outside like any good self-respecting snake."

I became angry the first time he rose up as if to strike me. I trapped his body under the broom. "You can die inside. Or you can live outside." I told him sternly. I lifted the broom slightly and gave him a light tap forward. He continued to rise up.

Finally he started to slither toward the great outdoors. I had won. 

My self-congratulatory smile came just a bit too soon.

After several more uprisings and attempts to circle back inside, I finally relocated him to the patio.

For the rest of the evening each time I opened the door to check on him, the insolent snake raised up and glared at me! I decided Moggy and Bandit would use the front door to go potty. I didn't want to send them in the path of an angry snake--harmless or not. 

Before he left I started to consider naming him Sydney (after Sydney Poitier because he stared as another unwanted guest in "Guess Who's Comming to Dinner.") But thought the better name would be Sheridan Whiteside (the annoying character in "The Man Who Came to Dinner."). But if I named him, I would want to keep him. And I don't want reptillian houseguests. 

He, loopy-toe, toady, and the widow chameleon can share my backyard, where they will find all the heat their little reptillian bodies need. They can chow down on all the flys, mosquitoes,  ants, and no-see-ums they can catch. I will make  safe havens for them that Moggy can't get into. I will leave saucers of cool water for their drinking and bathing pleasure. They can be yard guests.   Doing what they do best--in the enviornment.

If they continue to insist on being uninvited houseguests I fear they will go the way of the chameleon I could not save.