The Chipmunk

Thursday afternoon, a chipmunk got into the house.  He holed up in the bottom corner cupboard in the kitchen, hiding under the lazy susan and scolding the cat whenever she came near.  I could see him and smell him, but not actually get to him to grab him.  I poked him with a stick, tried to lure him with peanut butter - nothing was working.

I gave up trying to get him that way, closed the cupboard and waiting for Rick to get home to set the live trap.  Within an hour of baiting the live trap and putting in the cupboard with the door closed, the chipmunk was caught and was promptly escorted outside.

Chipmunk drama over.  And, my entire corner cabinet was disassembled and disinfected.  Excellent.

Fast forward to Friday afternoon.  The baby was sleeping, and I was enjoying a spare moment reading on the couch.  Who comes trotting into the living room like he owns the place?  That's right.  The chipmunk.  I could tell it was the same one due to a particular dark marking on it's left side.

Okay, fine, you little rascal, I thought.  Let's get you back out of here.  I opened up the sliding kitchen door, and put a plate loaded with peanut butter in front of it.  Sure enough, he fell for it, and I shooed him out.

Crisis averted.

Back to the couch and back to my book.

Not two minutes later the damn thing was BACK IN THE HOUSE.

How is this happening?  No doors or windows were open and we had no holes in any screen (to my knowledge).  It was bewildering, but his persistence was admirable.  Being a smart chipmunk, he headed straight back to where the peanut butter plate had been.  I shooed him out...again.  It was at this point that I considered not giving him anymore peanut butter.

I shut the front door, because that seemed to be the direction he was coming from and closed all the sliding doors.

Back to the couch, back to my book.

All of a sudden, there's scratching behind me.  HE'S CLIMBING THE SCREEN.  Then running along the window sills, desperate to get back in.  What is happening?!  I felt like I was the star of a bad horror movie.  He was like a zombie chipmunk, and he wanted peanut butter brains.

It turns out the screen on the front door has come away from the frame a bit.  That's how he was getting in.  By closing the door - I locked him out.  The peanut butter well is dried up.

So, until the screen is repaired, we keep the front door shut.

This morning as I was in the washroom, I saw him out in the front garden, watching me, waiting for me to let down my guard.