I love winter, especially the temperature dipping below freezing, wind chill minus three degrees kind that emboldens critters to squeeze themselves through minute cracks in my house and seek shelter in the balmy comfort of my home. We’ve had birds, the usual rodents (eww) and even a snake (fun day). But nothing says Welcome to the Kitchen like a flying squirrel. The freakishly big eyes, the furry tail, the way it flies overhead as your husband tries to catch it in a fishing net, while simultaneously trying to take its picture.
My plan was to hide in the bedroom and open all the doors until it found its way out. Luckily, JD and the net persevered and the Flying Rabies of Death is now back outside. Good going, hubby!