Squirrel Killer

Did you say squirrel?!?

My son spent part of the morning in the Vice Principal’s office. He was working something out with a boy that he had been at odds with.

Today also happens to be the day that I go running with a group of women and their dogs. We meet at the school and run from there.

The Vice Principal phoned me at about mile 3 to tell me that the two boys did great. They had worked things out, each taking responsibility for their own actions. They left the office in good spirits and even seemed very friendly.

Even though the meeting went well and had a positive outcome, as a parent, it is hard to not feel responsible.  It’s hard not to feel bad for your son, and it’s also hard not to feel that the school staff isn’t looking at you as if you are a terrible parent.

The running group and I made it back to the school parking lot where we gathered to chat about the run and the day ahead. I couldn’t help but think about my son’s meeting with the vice principal, and what I could do as a mom to keep my kids out of trouble.  And that the staff must be thinking that I am a loser mother.

As the last thought was running through my mind, I opened the back of the car to let the dog hop in. I unclipped her leash as she spotted a squirrel cavorting near the school office.  She took off like a bat out of you-know-where towards the squirrel.  I thought for sure the squirrel would get away.

I thought wrong.

 

My dog, focused and agile, chased that thing around a parked car about three times until she caught it and shook it to death. All the while, the squirrel was screaming loudly . . . horribly.  I sprinted towards the scene, knowing in the pit of my stomach that there was no way I could make it in time.

By the time I got there, my thoughts turned immediately to damage control.  Not wanting any kids to see the dead squirrel and my evil rodent–killing dog licking her chops, I ordered my dog away from her furry trophy, picked up the dead squirrel, and ran to my car. I threw my dog and the squirrel into the back of my car, slammed the hatch and whipped around to see if maybe, just maybe, no one had noticed.

The parking lot was silent. I could have sworn I saw a tumbleweed roll by, right past all of my girlfriends who were still standing there, frozen, jaws agape, staring at the place where the whole hideous incident had happened: right in front of the gleaming glass doors of the vice principal’s office.

I am now in the process of looking for a private school in a different town . . . .

Oh yah, that squirrel...

Sorry about that...

Do you still love me?

Oh course we do, you demonic squirrel murderer.

Comments

[Lisa]

Moon doggie is Sundance's hero! Sunny dreams of catching one of those chatter boxes.

[kimmy]

Hahahahaha! You are such a funnnny writer, lady! May I suggest a stronger verb in place of “shook it to death” such as “rag dolled it to death”? That's what we called it when Marley used to kill cats…
I loved how you brought it back to the lead of your story…gleaming glass doors of the v.p.'s office! Brilliant! Xoxo

[Joni Holland]

Ha!Hilarious! P.S. You are a GREAT mom!!

[chigiy]

Hey Kimmy, Thanks for the lovely compliment. xox

Hi Joni, thank you for visiting and giving me that vote of confidence.