Around 8 pm, I was washing pump parts in the kitchen while Chris, Ben and Anna were in the living room. I heard a loud crash behind me and turned around to see our cat Maisie running a circle around the table and disrupting a couple bags of recycling that hadn't gone out yet. Then I saw that she was chasing *something*.
Shudder. OMG. It was larger than a mouse, smaller than a grey squirrel. I screamed, and Chris came running into the kitchen as I went running into the living room. I picked up Ben and went up the stairs to put him to bed.
When I came back down, Chris was stalking the wild beast but had unfortunately lost sight of the animal. I sat in the living room with my feet up, holding Anna, trembling and crying. He came back defeated. No luck. Couldn't find it.
We waited, and I kept crying. I wanted to leave the house, get a hotel room or move. Chris reminded me that leaving wouldn't solve the problem, and besides, we have a mortgage. So we waited.
About 15 minutes later, we heard a slight ruckus from the kitchen again. Maisie was pawing at one of the recycling bags. Chris peeked in and saw that the critter had landed in there and was stuck. He brought the bag outside and released the furry woodland creature back into the wilds of the neighborhood.
It was a flying squirrel. We don't know how it got in, but this weekend we're putting screens on all of our heating vents and returns. I'm totally traumatized. And of course, I'm in a crazily intense cleaning mood. Pardon me while I go mop the kitchen floor again with disinfectant.
