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In Which My Week Is Made

July 22, 2008

I’ve kept a stupid little water pistol on my window sill for ages.  Nominally, it’s there to stop the near-continuous cat fights that were occurring on the back porch when I got it, but before I ever got a chance to use it, the cats started fighting on the lawn, which is beyond my range from the windowsill.

And the crows are too smart, I’ve never had a chance to get them, either.

So it’s sat there, unused and mocked, for months.  Until the afternoon, during which my eye’s attention was grabbed by a flicker of motion at the edge of my vision.  And then, glee.  There was a goddamned squirrel on my roof.  Spitting distance away.  And, just my luck, the unfortunate creature was frozen, deer-in-the-headlights as I grabbed the gun, aimed, and unloaded.

Got the fucker!  It did a hilarious sort of barrel roll down the slope of the roof, still frozen in shock, before regaining it’s feet and skittering off across the roof from whence it came, dogged by my marvellous excellent aim the entire distance.  I ran out of water just as it jumped into the tree.  I ambled to the sink in the next room over to reload, and then I peered out the window … Excellent good fortune!  For some reason, it’d stayed where it had come to rest in the tree, peering about confusedly.

Until I started squirting the little shit again.

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