And I've had it.
It's bad enough that these varmints sit in their trees and yell at me while I'm in my backyard, run across my roof, incite birds into early-morning wake-up calls and steal grapes, strawberries and whatever else they can their, uh, hands on.
But eating my Halloween Jack-o-lanterns takes it all.
They don't pay the mortgage, they don't pay the rent. They don't even chip in with the cable bill, and yet they have no problem acting like they own the place.
A neighbor while I was growing up, who I'll call Mr. D, used to trap them and, according to neighborhood lore, gas them with car exhaust. To foil his plans, a friend and I used to free the squirrels, who we sympathized with, from his traps.
Now I understand Mr. D's pain.
So, to all you miserable squirrels out there, I hope the picture above serves as a lesson.
Watch your back.
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