The Great Squirrel War

Holding It All Together - by Amy McCollom - Squirrel Wars

It all started early this fall. Zippy first made his appearance with his brother Sneaky around the first week in August. I'm not talking about just any unwanted visitor that has darkened my door. I'm not even talking about relatives that move in and grow roots. I'm talking about the dreaded Great Squirrel War of 2009.

If it wasn't for that incident two years ago, I would have looked out my patio doors and joined the little people in saying, "Awww, would you look at that cute little creature in our yard!" But I knew better. I saw the destruction and damage those nasty little creatures can do to an over-stuffed floral patio lawn chair cushion. I picked up the cotton myself. I picked out the new cushions, still seething from their blatant vandalism. I remembered everything.

At first I would peck on the glass and yell at them. Then, as I got braver, I would actually open the patio door and yell all the louder. Sometimes that worked, but sometimes it didn't. Sometimes the hairy little creatures would sit on my patio furniture, just gnawing away at whatever they had in their tiny little hands, paying no attention to my ranting.

Now normally I'm a pretty kind-hearted soul. I give to charities, I help old ladies cross the street, and I even throw cornbread out for the birds. I've been known to leave bowls of cat food in my yard for wandering felines. Not intending to, I've invited squirrels into my yard for a buffet.

Squirrels can be quite pesky though. Did you know that squirrels often cause power outages? Squirrels have actually brought down the NASDAQ stock market twice and have been responsible for a string of power outages at the University of Alabama. Since their teeth never stop growing, they have a propensity to chew and love to sharpen their teeth on tree limbs, power lines, or parts of your house. They also like to burrow, and have caused breaches in dams and levees. We're not talking about Alvin and Simon here.

According to Wikipedia, squirrels make excellent pets because of their high intelligence that compares with dogs. Supposedly they can be easily trained if raised from a baby. But according to my dad and my Grandpa Harv, they taste pretty good with gravy and biscuits. I like chicken, myself.

I don't think too many people eat them anymore, at least around here. Maybe that’s because the American Heart Association found them to be high in cholesterol. Or maybe they've become so popular in children's television and movies that everyone thinks they are harmless and cute. I just think they are ornery.

There is one particular squirrel that runs in front of my car every morning as I drive past the park to deliver the kids to school. For some reason this squirrel, who we fondly call Stumpy, is missing half of his tail. I can only imagine the kind of mischief he must have gotten himself into to render him tail-challenged. Perhaps his habit of chasing cars proved to be more dangerous than he supposed. He's probably Zippy's cousin.

I saw Zippy one morning as I pulled into my drive way. He was in my front yard landscaping, knocking over my gnome figurine with his tiny hands. I took pictures. No one would have believed me otherwise. I have found empty corncobs on the patio, and gnaw-marks around the base of my cedar yard furniture. So far my seat cushions have remained intact. Zippy beats most birds to the popcorn and breadcrumbs I leave for them, he dances tauntingly around my yard and then darts off to safety through my chain link fence, and he may have won this war for now. But look out Zippy. I'm getting a dog.

Thanksgiving

Holding It All Together - by Amy McCollom - Thanksgiving

I sat down tonight and planned to write about all the things I was thankful for. I was hoping to inspire someone to re-evaluate their life and notice the small things that they should be thankful for, and not just overlook. Little things like their health and their home and their jobs. Things that matter but we've gotten accustomed to taking them for granted.

But as I sat here I began to think about my life, and it started to weigh heavy on my mind. Last week my mother had open heart surgery. She's doing good, however there are some complications. Now she has become diabetic and has to take shots of insulin and test her blood everyday. She's weak and shaky and can't do the things she would like to do, such as make her bed, or walk the aisles of the grocery store. It's added a bit more worry to my already busy life. I check on her daily and feel like I almost have another child to look after. "How's your sugar today?" "Have you been drinking sweet tea again?" "You know you shouldn't be eating more than one cookie."

Then I thought about my kids. They're not perfect, but I love them anyway. When we went to visit my mom in the hospital, five-year-old Rosa looked out the eighth story window and screamed, " Look, you can see Disney World from here!" She also thinks she can breathe under water, and will grow wings some day. Rosa had plastic surgery to remove a large hemangioma from the back of her head last year, and has trouble with nerve pain until I can barely brush her hair. I usually try and use my fingers instead of the hard bristles. They say in time this should get better.

Rudy, Rosa's twin, was born with a hole in his heart. He got pneumonia at five weeks old and nearly died. He was in ICU for over a week. At his last heart sono, the hole had apparently closed up on it's own. Many prayers had gone up for that little boy.

Portia is eight now, and I've gotten used to her little differences. When the doctors casually told me, as if it was an ingrown toe nail, that she was autistic, I didn't know what I should feel. Fear gripped me because I had only heard the worse case scenarios about autistic children. And then when she was diagnosed with Tourettes Syndrome too, I was beside myself. Her tics can be annoying for someone who doesn't understand her. But her love for reading and her excitement about science makes me forget about all that for a while.

During a recent occupational therapy appointment for Portia, I was sitting in the waiting room feeling a bit sorry for myself. Why did my child have to come here every two weeks to learn to get her feet off the ground and build upper arm strength? Why was my daughter unable to ride a bike or tie her shoes? Why did she need to be taught how to hop on one foot and do jumping jacks? Then Mikey came in with his mother.

Mikey, not his real name of course, is a little boy about the same age as Portia. He is in a wheel chair and drools constantly, wearing a light blue baby's bib around his neck. He has a tube coming out of his throat and makes gurgling sounds that his mother said were words. His mother was smiling. She wasn't scowling or sitting quietly like me with a blank look on her face and an unopened magazine in her lap while she waited. She laughed and wiped Mikey's face. And I felt about an inch tall. Here moments earlier I had been feeling sorry for myself because my daughter wasn't perfect. And while I'm sure there were days that Mikey's mom didn't want to get out of bed to face another day of what she had to go through, on this particular day there was nothing but love and thankfulness on her face. God speaks in a still small voice.

So this Thanksgiving I plan to look at the positive side of everything. Our house is too small, but that makes it warm and cozy. Our kids aren't perfect, but that makes them unique. Our van is old, but dependable. My mom had surgery, but she made it through.

And if I run out of positive things, I have a book called 14,000 Things To Be Happy About by Barbara Ann Kipfer. It's a great book, and I highly recommend it when you need to get happy in a hurry.

So in conclusion, remember this. It's ok if you burned the turkey, or the pumpkin pie is runny. It's ok if you are going through a crisis, or things in your life aren't the way you have hoped. Keep moving. Keep hoping. Keep smiling. Keep praying. And keep holding it all together. It could always be worse, Love.

H1N1

Holding It All Together - by Amy McCollom - swine flu

Are you panicked about the H1N1 virus? I'm not anymore. I've stared the knarly beast in the face and walked away still alive. Well, presumably. Last Thursday one of my little people came down with a fever, cough, and aching muscles. After a trip to the doctor it was presumed to be H1N1, but they don't test for that on a regular basis. The treatment is the same whether it is the "swine flu" or any other variety. Rest, fluids, pain reliever, and stay away from people.

One by one the girls in my family succumbed to the virus. Big to little, my sick ward became full of pink pillows, stuffed horses, and cups of chicken soup for the sickly. I cornered off one of the bedrooms in the children's' wing as my sick bay.

At first I was hyper-paranoid about germs. I wore rubber gloves and a mask and was spritzing everything down with bleach cleaner. I used half a bottle of hand sanitizer before my husband got home from work. Then in an absent-minded moment, I kissed a child on the head just as she sneezed...and realized I was fighting an uphill battle.

Feeling a bit like Rambo, I tied my hair back, rolled up my sleeves, and went in bare-faced and ready to fight. Ok H1N1, you want to take me on....go right ahead. I had come to the conclusion that I might as well get the sickness and then get over it, since vaccines are few and far between. Then I will build up my own antibodies and not have to walk on egg shells the rest of the flu season. I wouldn't recommend just anyone doing this.

If you have an under-lying health condition such as asthma, that puts you at greater risk for developing a more serious infection such as pneumonia. The regular seasonal flu kills people too. On average 36,000 people die from flu-related complications and more than 200,000 people are hospitalized from flu-related causes each year. So the flu is nothing to sneeze at, pardon the pun.

I'm just saying, don't get caught up in the hype and hysteria about the H1N1 flu, or the seasonal flu. Arm yourself with knowledge, and perhaps some vitamin C. There are people who have the virus right now and don't know it because they only have a few symptoms, thinking they have allergies or something mild. If you've touched a dollar bill, you've probably already been exposed. It's everywhere. Get the facts from a reputable web site such as http://www.cdc.gov/flu/keyfacts.htm . And stop already with the masks and rubber gloves. If you're sick, stay home and don't share it with everyone. Be responsible. Talk to your health care provider. And for crying out loud, get your yearly flu vaccine. Get the H1N1 vaccine when it's available. Oh, and wear your seatbelt, and don't smoke if you're so concerned about dying. Just quit freaking out already.

I Hate Toys

Our house is too small for the kids to have toys. All it takes is for a few things to be thrown here or there and with as many people as we have living in our house...it gets chaotic in a hurry. Seven kids can make a huge mess. It's like having a house full of monkeys!!!

Not only the clutter of their toys, but they pilfer through their drawers of clothes like they were working for the FBI...throwing things everywhere...no regard to whether things were folded or not....toys mixed with clothes mixed with papers....and it's an everyday event. I finally get enough and clean their room for them, only to have it a disaster a short time later.

So I'm taking away their toys. I really am. I did it this past summer, but they found the toys in the garage and slowly dragged them in one by one...but not this time. I'll either get rid of them all together, or put them up too high for them to reach. We need a family room...or a designated play room where the kids could rip and roar and confine their mess to one part of the house. I can live with that. But sitting on the couch and getting goosed by a cap gun...I can't take that anymore.

Maybe that's mean. I don't care. I don't remember having but a small box of toys when I was a kid...we had Legos and some Barbie dolls....that's all. And I kept all my stuff in my half of the closet. I shared a room with my sister. I hated that. She was a slob. So in a sense I've always been fighting other peoples' clutter and messes. When will I get my own room?!!! When will I get my clean house?!!! My mom said when I do, it won't matter any more.

For now it bugs the crap out of me. What about you? Is other people's clutter taking over your life? Join me in the great toy hate of 2009.

New Column 10/15/2009

Holding It All Together - by Amy McCollom - cats

Do you have a cat? Do you have two cats? Do you have 100 cats? Recently I heard on the news of a man in another state who had 100 cats and was arrested for hoarding cats. I didn't know it was a crime. That got me to thinking about a lot of things related to cats and other pets.

I can understand why the man's neighbors and local officials might be concerned with all the cats in his yard. Certainly, if not taken care of well enough, there would be the smell and the noise from crying cats. That would be real annoying. As far as I could tell, the cats were kept in his house and yard, and not allowed to roam the neighborhood. So aside from the smell and noise, what's the problem?

Well, the problem is when people don't care for their pets and then the pets are turned loose or left at over-crowded shelters. According to the Humane Society Of The United States, animal shelters care for an estimated 6-8 million dogs and cats every year in the United States, of whom approximately 3-4 million are euthanized. That's simply a tragedy.

Pet health care is expensive. Cats and other pets need vaccinations and yearly check-ups. And that's hoping they stay healthy and don't develop an illness or disease. If your pet is suffering and you don't help it, that is neglect. It's also a crime. It gets serious in a hurry.

According to the ASPCA web site, it has been estimated that there are 900 to 2,000 new cases of animal hoarding every year in the United States. "Animal hoarding is generally covered under every state’s Cruelty to Animals statute, which typically requires a caretaker to provide sufficient food and water, veterinary care and a sanitary environment. Only one state, Illinois, currently has a legal definition of animal hoarding in its cruelty statute. With guidance from ASPCA, the Illinois Companion Animal Hoarder Act was created to both delineate penalties and mandate counseling for convicted hoarders."

I have a cat named Reggie. He is a purebred Bengal. I purchased him specifically for his personality, size, and looks. I chose him. He is not a belonging, but one of the family, as far as I'm concerned. But I also understand that if I owned 100 Reggies, all of which were members of my family, then that could be a problem. We don't have the room for that many pets, not to mention funds to keep them all healthy and well-fed. I could, however, get another cat or two and not be affected too badly. Like with most things, it's a lot about using your common sense.

My husband and I used to breed exotic cats. This itself brings controversy. Why breed cats when there are millions in shelters waiting for homes? Well, because some people want a specific look and personality in their pet. Not every one can adopt a cat of unknown origins, just like not every one can adopt a child from another set of parents. It's what you personally can handle. Plus it was fun and profitable. We bred Cornish Rex, Sphynx, Pixie Bobs, and Bengals. It was quite an adventure. At one time, we had 24 cats in our house. And that wasn't too many. 18 of them were for sale at the time, and all of them were sold within six months. All of my cats were vaccinated and pest-free. They sat in windows and on door frames, and were pretty happy as far as I could tell. Then life changed for us and we started raising kids instead of cats, so we shifted our focus to our family. Now 24 cats in our house would be overwhelming, even if it were for a short time. Knowing your limits, on anything, is vital to your mental health.

So for now I'm not a crazy cat lady. But I do love cats, and think they are just about the perfect pet. There are so many breeds out there, surely there is a cat for everyone's personality. And as much as I want to fight for our rights and freedom to pursue happiness, I have to agree that having 100 cats is just too much for most people to handle.

See Mom, I was listening.

Latest Column

Holding It All Together

Well, it's finally October. You know what that means.....baseball's finest hour. Oh, were you thinking pumpkins and black cats? Sorry. I'm talking World Series time!

So who is your team? Around here you usually run into a lot of Cubs or Cardinal fans, with an occasional White Sox fan thrown in there. I personally am a Cubs fan, ever since I fell in love with a cool short-stop named Larry Bowa when I was 12 years old. But I married a Cardinals fan, so now I'm double-minded. I try and keep the peace by rooting for which ever of our favorite teams is playing at the moment. My kids cleared it up for me the other day when I overheard one of them tell a friend, "I'm a Cub-nals fan."

Although I own more Cubs shirts than Cardinals shirts, I did go over-board in 2006 and wore a Cardinals shirt for all of the post-season games, sometimes under my clothes when I went to church. They won the World Series that year, and you have me to thank for that. Like most fans, I like to believe that my meager attempt to show my support somehow has amazing outcomes for my team. I also think that I can hex the other team by pretend-flicking at them, ok not really.

Isn't it strange, though, how we join ourselves with a team to the point that we talk about them in first person? "We won!" "Oh man, we almost had them!" "Can you believe how we did today?" As if by sitting on our couch watching our plasma screen, and shouting comments at the bad players, that we are part of the team and have altered the game.

Well, I was only on one baseball team in my life. That's probably a good thing. It wasn't too pretty. In fact, I don't think it was baseball at all. Softball perhaps? I was 10, what do I know. I didn't even know that the ball glove my mom got for me and my sister at a garage sale was really a catchers mitt. We had to share it, so I only had to wear it every other inning. It was for my right hand, but I'm right-handed. Never did figure out how to actually use it.

Now I know what you're thinking. The Cubs stink. But that simply isn't true. I know they haven't won the World Series in a long time, but that isn't the only series that matters. Are you aware that the Cubs won the Central Division title in 2007 and 2008. I bet you didn't know that the Chicago Cubs, formerly known as the Chicago White Stockings, is the oldest team in American organized sports, and in 1882 The White Stockings became the first team to win three straight National League Championships.

In 1902 The Chicago Daily News was the first to pen the "Cubs" nickname as the team's moniker. The nickname referred to the amount of young players the team had. On September 15 of that year, three of those young players Joe Tinker, Johnny Evers, and Frank Chance recorded the teams’ first double play in a 6-3 win vs. the Reds, and that inspired the famous poem by Franklin Pierce Adams, originally entitled Baseball's Sad Lexicon, also known as Tinker To Evers To Chance.

For whatever reason, we love the team we love. Instead of wasting time and energy dissing the Cubs, why not pick on the team that deserves it. The Cubs aren’t that bad, quit with the jokes already! Want to know who the worst team in baseball is this season? It's the Washington Nationals. The Cubs have won 24 more games than them. Next comes the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Cubs have won 21 more games than them. The Cubs came in second in their division this season. And that's ok with me. My Cardinals came in first, so I win either way. Remember, I'm a Cub-nals fan too.

These are the saddest of possible words:

"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,

Tinker and Evers and Chance.

Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,

Making a Giant hit into a double –

Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:

"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Franklin Pierce Adams