Unwanted Bedroom Partner

     I'm sharing my bedroom with a flying squirrel! He/she came running into the bathroom at 5:00 a.m. when I was in there (ahem!)! He/she took one look at me, a human being, and made a couple of flying leaps, turned 180 degrees, and fast-glided out of the room only to confront a cat! Smudge startled out of her sleep pounced and must have stunned the flier because he/she lay still beside the closet door. "You got him, Smudge," I yelled, "Good job!"


     Smudge kept reaching out to see if he/she was ready to become a snack, and suddenly he/she moved. Smudge pounced again. I was watching all this from the bed where I lay feet up and protected with a duvet from a possible invasion by the flying squirrel. My heart was pounding, and I wanted to cover my head, but I couldn't quit watching. 


     By now, I am seeing Smudge zigzagging between magazine holders, books, and computer cords tangled up on the floor. Lots of ruckus, and then...silence. Smudge assumed a cat-like position, of course, and looked puzzled glancing over her shoulder now and then to make sure she wasn't missing anything. She looked at me as if to say, "What flying squirrel?"


     From my vantage point, I'm sure Smudge has won the battle and that she is only waiting for the squirrel heart to stop beating so she can rip it out of that little rodent body. I don't especially want that to happen with squirrel parts scattered over and throughout my books and files. I carefully get up and approach the stuff on the floor, expecting something to pop up at any moment and surprise me, maybe run across my bare toes or up my leg. I see nothing. I look harder and gingerly reach out and move things around. Nothing.


     But I remember seeing him/her lying "dead" in the doorway corner to the closet! I decide he/she must have been only wounded and darted away into the closet to die. Now what do I do? Well, I couldn't sleep when I went back to bed, so I got up, made coffee, and sleepily moved through the morning.


     Wayne and his son came over after lunch to do some odd jobs and I asked them to take a look in the closet and see if they could find the flying squirrel who I was sure was dead by this time. When Wayne and Josh started moving things around guess who came running out? He/she did!
Apparently unwounded. Last night, he/she had been playing possum! 


All the cats were outside on the deck watching frustratedly through the glass doors. He/she disappeared under my very large dresser! Wayne and Josh were no match for speed!


     I had to take a nap I was so tired from having only 5 hours sleep last night. I chose to nap in the guest bedroom. When I got up, I found my live trap and it now sits near the bottom of my dresser baited with Meow Mix. The cats are still out on the deck. I'll sleep in the guest bedroom again tonight and hope he/she gets hungry enough and the room gets dark enough that he/she can come out and enter the trap.


     This is the third time the flying squirrels have invaded our Castle Yonder house. They are attracted by the bird seed and suet on the family room deck. It's become so routine that I expect to find the little door on the suet feeder standing wide open. These little boogers have mechanical abilities, also. 


     In our novice years in becoming partners with these unusual mammals, we suspected that a raccoon was the culprit in the Steal the Suet Caper. We didn't begin to figure it out until a flying squirrel got trapped in the guest bedroom, and we didn't realize we had an uninvited guest until our nose led us to it.


     The second time, I thought I was hallucinating several times as I caught glimpses of it climbing up onto my computer desk, catching sight of me, and disappearing and then in and out from under the family room sofa. Eventually it came into full sight, ran across the family room floor, up the fireplace, across the mantle, disappearing behind the top of a bookcase. The next morning, we found cornmeal on the floor as he/she chewed a hole in an extra bag I had stored on a high shelf in the pantry. That's when I bought the live trap and placed it high on the shelf baited with cornmeal.


     And now, this time I think he/she came in through opened doors and windows without screens last week when my air conditioner ran out of freon and the outside temps went into the '90's. I'd cool the house off when the temps lowered to the '60's by opening the doors at night, and night is when these little "gliders" come out to eat, exercise, and socialize.


     In the Appalachias, this species of a squirrel could be "Northern" or "Southern." I'm not sure what the difference is, but since this year is the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War, it seems most appropriate.


     I'll let you know when this little booger gets relocated.  

Off to the ER-again!

Wednesday eve we made our 2nd trip to the ER this month. Same old problem--Rocky couldn't get his breath. He had been that way on Monday, then Tues. he was energetic and up and doing.

However, Wed. he could barely get out of bed. As the day wore on, he could sit up but could not lie down (we have the head of the bed adjusted so he is never lying flat) or walk farther than a few feet. He had to stop and rest, gasping for air, on his way to and from the bathroom.

Around noon, he told me to pack a bag in case he decided to go to the hospital. I did so, and with the assist of a calming med (he tends to panic which makes matters worse) he slept for awhile. But same thing resumed late in the afternoon. He feared that he had pneumonia, although he did not have a fever.

So by 6:00 pm, we were on our way to the ER. He saw a doctor he's seen before there. Some doctors can communicate much better than others, as we all know. Discussing the fact that this was Rocky's visit in less than a month, I asked, "What's going on?" Finally, the doctor could give me enough information that I could form an analogy.

The fact is that Rocky's lungs are shot, even though there is no evidence of cancer. Think of it this way: his lungs are his treasure (assets, resource, whatever word you want to use). What's in his pocket is his only cash reserve. He has no bank account, checking or savings. It is possible for him to borrow a little, from an outside supply of oxygen, but that is limited.  And Rocky is fighting against carrying an oxygen tank around with him wherever he goes, and only uses it sporadically. He says he can't feel it is helping him very much. 

He much prefers the breathing treatment he gets from a unit called a Nebulizer. I think it's because he has to breathe the warm medicine in, and it reminds him of smoking, bless his heart. But that's just my guess.

So, the doctor explained, the only thing he can rely on is the cash he's got in his pocket. So let's play out this scenario. He is planning on going to Java J's to listen to, or maybe even tell, a story. He feels pretty good and has been doing household chores to help me out (in other words, he's enjoying life spending his "cash." He might as well since he can't save it up, the doctor says.) Then an hour before we are to leave he breathes in some dust particles (or pollen, or pet dander, or perfume) and his lungs have to spend whatever cash he has in his pocket to fight the breathlessness he begins to feel (and, the doctor says, the lung infection that starts right then). Now, he can't manage the walk to the car, let alone into Java J's and standing at a microphone.

Ironically, he cannot save any cash up by resting more. The more exercise he can tolerate, the slightly stronger his lungs will get, but that sounds more hopeful than it really is, because in the doctor's words, "his lungs are rotten," and to the doctor's credit, he lowered his voice to barely be heard when he said, "rotten." I felt the tears coming, but held them back. I looked at Rocky and his eyes were glistening with tears then, too.

So, we came home with some strong meds and some better understanding of the situation. We've made some environmental changes and plan some more. Yesterday, our helper, Jack, and I moved our 4 cats to a lovely apartment in the basement we created for them out of an old extra dog kennel, covered with a tarp and with king-size pillows in the bottom. We filled up a large petfood dispenser with Meow Mix and I purchased one of those new-on-the-market bubbling water dispensers that will keep 1 1/2 gal. of water fresh for them for several days. 

I have another friend who will come twice a week to take care of those chores (I am so lucky to have friends like this, and enough resources to pay them for their gas and trouble.)

There is a cat door to the outside world so the cats are not imprisoned in the basement. In fact, they had instantly used it and all four, including the old Mama, had climbed the poles that support our upsairs Master bedroom deck. They danced at the door for awhile, but as the night grew colder, below freezing, they disappeared. We didn't see them again today until they came up to lie in the sun.

Rocky will miss the cats a lot. He has always called them his "therapy cats," and he cradles them and pays attention to each one every day. I'm not talking about kittens. Three of these are 10 years old, and their Mama is of an undisclosed age since she came stray. I hope to post a short slideshow of them yet today.

Another decision we made is to move ourselves into the guest bedroom so we can tear out the carpet in our bedroom and put down hardwood. Our family room has wood floors, but we have always preferred the warmth of carpet in the bedrooms. Those days are gone, I guess. 

So life goes on--thank God! And we make the necessary changes so we can remain at Castle Yonder.   Mimi