The Hunt Is On

I left off yesterday with Grady's frantic dash to the house screaming "Mayday! Mayday" The chipmunk is still in the house".  I am convinced that as far as the neighbours are concerned we surpassed ourselves this weekend. 

It turns out that as Rob removed the cardboard covering from the bin that housed the chipmunk, he was surprised when nothing jumped out. He looked in the bin, no chipmunk. Checked again, still no chipmunk. It didn't break loose on it's trek down the garden, which can only mean it escaped while still in the bedroom, probably as Rob swooped in on the DVD stand. 

Lindsay who was calling my sister to tell her we were finally on our way, hung up mid dial and we all raced back upstairs.  We searched under, over, behind and in everything in the bedroom, but no sign of the damn chipmunk. By this time it could have gone anywhere, and we were all hungry for turkey, so we decided sod it, leave the cat in the house and take our chances.

Finally we are on our way and troop out to the van. No sooner have we got settled, when Sid decides she has forgotten something and races back to the house. The next thing we hear is a blood curdling scream "Charlie has the chipmunk". We react like a crack Navy Seal unit and deploy from the van en masse, stampeding towards the door. All that is, except Zach who is still in the van wondering what the hell just happened. I yell over my shoulder "Grab my purse Zach", only because I didn't want to leave it sitting in an open vehicle at the end of the driveway, but Zach replies "Seriously?" suspecting I may have a chipmunk catching device hidden among the kleenex and lipsticks. By now he is convinced we have all lost the plot, but he follows us gamely back into the house. 

We locate Sid and then we see Charlie - sans chipmunk, sitting in the kitchen. It turns out that Sid jumped the gun - she had seen Charlie looking for the chipmunk and assumed capture was imminent. By this time Lindsay has made multiple - long distance - calls to my sister who is waiting to serve the turkey - "We're running late", "We're on our way", "We're back looking for the chipmunk" , "We're on our way again". 

Normally I take a "live and let live" approach and protect the chipmunk at all costs, but by now, I felt the furry little fiend deserved his impending death by feline, and we set off once again for my sister's house, assuming Charlie would take care of business while we were gone. That might have worked too, if the damn cat hadn't escaped outside during the commotion and was now sitting on the front lawn giving us the finger.  

So here we are two days on, and still not sure if we have an unwanted guest or if he somehow made it to out safety. I'm guessing only time will tell.