literally another aussie in london

the squirrel returns, payback time

You would have thought that one terrorising event with the squirrel was enough.

But one week on I am in the park right near the ‘squirrel café’ playing tennis, we had flown away to a 4-2 lead, and have the situation in control.

Then a squirrel comes onto the court.

You don’t have to be a squirrelologist to know this is the same animal.

It’s in his eyes, and when he sees me, he tries to get aggressive, but he wasn’t prepared for another round, he was carrying his lunch, a large nut, and I have a tennis racquet, plus i have been waiting for this moment all week.

When you survive a traumatic experience you first have ‘the fear’, but after that comes ‘the rage’, and did i have the rage, if i caught the little fucker i would rip him to shreds.

Sensing my advantage I attack, I employ the cutting off the ring method that George Foreman used on Muhammad Ali early on in the rumble in the jungle fight.

The squirrel goes left, but I am already there, he goes right, but I manage to cut him off.

Now I have him at a further disadvantage, his speed is no match for me, as I’m wearing tennis shorts.

So I go straight for him, and over the next 30 seconds I chase him all round the baseline.

You have to respect him though, he never drops his nut, or gets hit by my constant swings of the tennis racquet.

He does however know he is not going to win this round, he had an advantage in the café, I had to protect a guide and he could climb walls.

Here I am the master, and after he manages to escape another swing of the racquet he leaves the tennis court in a hurry.

I am quite happy with the result, and take my confidence back to the court.

Unfortunately, my battle with the squirrel affects my game, perhaps I don’t take it as serious after such an emotional stoush, but either way, we win only one more game for the day, and go from 4-2 up, to 6-4, 6-1 down.

I spend the next few days thinking about my next encounter with the squirrel, which will happen next Saturday, if the next two Saturdays provide an accurate guide.

One thing was for sure, if it was the squirrels cafe, then they must now be known as Jrod’s courts, and everyone should know this.

October 14, 2008 Posted by Jrod | living in london | squirrels, wild animals | 4 Comments

the squirrel

Being from Australia I am used to wild animals.

I have my share of snake stories, have been to suburban petrol stations with kangaroos and I was trained how to deal with redbacks by my mother.

I thought all that was behind me.

I was leaving a country that was deadly, and arrived at a country that was benign.

Incorrect, there is one animal over here that is as deadly and can inspire as much panic as a snake.

THE SQUIRREL.

A squirrel you say, a little cute squirrel playing with his nut, his big bushy tail following him, up and down the tree as he lives a merry little life.

You stupid stupid fool.

Sure in the wild they could appear cute and cuddly, but have you ever been trapped in a café with one.

They are like satanic rats straight from hell.

Here I was, enjoying a full English with the guide, and to my right I spot a little furry bastard entering the café, and make it’s way straight into the kitchen.

I hear no noise from the kitchen, so I figure, hey it’s not hygienic, but they obviously have some long standing arrangement with the squirrel.

Then the squirrel comes out into the dining area, looks around, and goes back into the kitchen.

I can only assume they didn’t see him the first time, because they second time there is an ear splitting feminine scream, and the calm squirrel that went in to the kitchen, was replaced by this new squirrel, and he was angry.

He was like an ice addict in a cop shop now, his movements were filled with rage, he didn’t seem to know where to go or what to do, it was frantic and mad capped.

Suddenly it performed like any caged animal, it’s back against the wall, fuelled by constant screams by the Polish waitress, who was pale before the squirrel, now she was see thru.

The squirrel climbed up walls, jumped on tables, zig zagged out of control, it’s eyes turned red, and it was starting to look for victims.

It wanted out, but because of the anger, it couldn’t see a way out, if it had to kill someone at that point it knew it could and it was looking at me.

We shared a moment, victim and prey, neither of us quite sure who was in charge.

By this stage I had got my guide into a safe place, if there was one, the polish waitress has found a bunker to hide in, and the cook was sort of half coming out, and half wondering what he could do to stop this mad animal.

The answer was nothing.

Just then the squirrel played his final card, with all its vitriolic rage and devil inspired passion it could muster it climbed with windows with its bare paws.

Oh it was a site, this squirrel conquering the modern world, it’s anger and tenacity a lesson that anything can be defeated, if you have passion and claws.

Glass is a wicked invention by man, ask any bird who was got confused or any animal that is caged behind it.

But that day in the café, I witnessed the squirrel defeat his human enemies, he was more than the glass, he was more than a squirrel, he was a metaphor of lives struggles.

And with that he left the café, his point made.

Everyone in the café started breathing again, the polish woman came out from the attic, and we left that café, never to return again.

It was now the Squirrel’s café, and everyone knew this.

October 9, 2008 Posted by Jrod | living in london | squirrels, wild animals | 9 Comments