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And now she’s just lying there like nothing happened. I can’t believe this just happened.

Bunk came strolling in the house with a chipmunk in her mouth, pleased as could be.

Me: I don’t think it’s dead yet.

Drew: She’ll take care of it. Just don’t watch.

Cue Bunk, dropping the chipmunk, who made a mad dash for the nearest safe place, which happened to be our heating vent.

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Now it’s somewhere in the duct work, where it will surely die, and rot. Argh. Last year at the middle school, a squirrel died in the walls, and the smell got so bad that maintenance ended up smashing holes in the cinder block until they found the body. Is this my future? Tearing up duct work in search of putrid rodent carcases?

Bunk, I hate you right now.

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Update! We had some friends over for dinner (picture: six adults and three children – kind of a zoo. More running around the table than sitting at it.) And bam!, there’s señor chipmunk, running circles around the dining room along with the kids, looping into the living room, around through the office, etc, amidst screams and shouted trapping instructions. Bunk, of course, was no where to be found, the useless cat. I ran upstairs for a laundry basket while the menfolk tried to corral the beast out the front door. He took to the stairs but luckily I was at the top, and he did a 180, hitting the wall of guys at the bottom of the stairs, and was finally directed out the door.

The poor thing; what a day! I’m glad he didn’t die, but mostly I’m glad he didn’t die in my heating vent.

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