A chipmunk got into the garage today, and thence into the house. I can’t say for certain whether Zerlina brought him in or chased him in, but by the time I was aware of him she was in hot pursuit.
Oh great, I thought. I’ve brought in all the tomatoes, so the chipmunk has come inside to dine on them.
A mouse that gets under a bookshelf will hide for a while, but eventually will come out for food or water, and the cat on stake-out will pounce. But experience shows that a chipmunk, freaked out by finding itself in a living room, will stay under the furniture
until it dies. This causes Zerlina to lose interest, so we have to locate the moldering critter and dispose of it ourselves. Therefore when a chipmunk gets in, we wait until Zerlina inevitably corners it in the living room, close the living room doors with the protesting cat on the other side of them, arm ourselves with a broom, and open wide the doors from living room to the deck. Some chipmunks seize opportunity when first it knocks; others need encouragement, which is what the broom is for. This was a brighter than average chipmunk and made for the door right away, though it chose to squeak through the crack between door and doorjamb, rather than the big wide open space.
Considering the damage chipmunks do in my garden, I was not full of tender regard for this one. I wouldn’t have wept if Zerlina had killed it, but I wasn’t up to doing the job myself. Zerlina, my hench-cat, taking on the burdens for which nature has prepared you, here is my gratitude: a handful of kitty treats; a scratch behind the ears; ten thousand years’ accumulation of civilized respect.
Zerlina’s point of view is here.