When Fates Collide.

We all have come across people in our lives where the chemistry is so instantaneous and intense, the connection becomes undeniable. It’s the sudden realization that your path is crossing this other person’s path, and for a specific reason. While that reason can take weeks, months, or possibly years to be determined, the reason is always there… waiting.

Chemistry jokes make me giggle... even if I did fail the class miserably in high school.

Chemistry jokes make me giggle… even if I did fail the class miserably in high school.

Back at the beginning of 2010 when I met my guy, it was pretty certain our fates were destined to cross… and all for the purpose of love. But I was wrong… so terribly wrong. In fact, it took three and a half amazing years together to understand the real purpose of our paths crossing.

Cue the flashback waves.

It was early this past Saturday morning and all was calm throughout the apartment. I had tossed and turned a few times with my typical 6:30am wake-up time plunging into my sleep and dragging me out ruthlessly. As I began my weekend routine (thinking about coffee and weighing the pros/cons of getting out of bed to use the restroom), sounds from the kitchen suddenly drew in my attention.

The first suspects were my Siamese-mixed pair of felines who tend to practice their auditions for WWF on the weekend.

Don't glance into their eyes. They're busy collecting human data to report back to the mothership.

Don’t glance into their eyes. They’re busy collecting human data to report back to the mother-ship. And they’ll suck your soul out. No big.

A quick glance at the bureau showed the kitchen rustling was not Siamese-created. The older, female cat was disdainfully staring at me from her perch on the bureau, rightfully requesting (telepathically) to check out the ongoing ruckus. A quick toss of my arm over my head confirmed the noise wasn’t dog-related either. My loyal morkie lay passed out, snoring happily above my head.

Enter the moment I began poking my guy in the side, urging him to check out the noises. While the immediate danger was minimal, his help was still required due to my lingering fear from a disgustingly large intake of murder and crime related shows late at night.

A half-asleep shuffle into the kitchen by my guy, mixed with one alarming “Oh. My. Fucking. God.” announcement later, I flew out of bed with my three animals in tow to face the horror.

This encounter, sadly, would have been favorable.

This encounter, sadly, would have been favorable.

Not only was there a squirrel in the kitchen, but said squirrel was maniacally throwing itself about like a bouncy ball trapped in a room full of rubber walls. I watched in horror as the rodent-like body scattered across the kitchen counters, smashing dishes and toppling silverware every which way. He even took a moment to tour our bathtub and cat house. How thoughtful.

Call the fire department!” was my first line of defense to my guy, as he dashed from side to side in attempts to out-step the squirrel, all the while using up the energy pulsing from his nervous reaction.

The loud sound of scratching nails and frantic searching for an escape echoed through the kitchen as I rounded up the animals, yelling nonsense about rabid squirrels attempting to attack my furbabies. My guy tentatively ran in and out of the kitchen, as I recklessly threw out my plans.

Reckless Plan #1: “Okay, I am going to run into the kitchen, throw open the laundry room door, then throw open the back outside door. I’ll run back in and the squirrel will run out!” Hmm, a rational idea, except for overlooking the small fact I would have to run back through these three doors, all while attempting to not be blood-sucked by the squirrel.

Reckless Plan #2: “We’ll trap it!” I must have forgotten I don’t act as runner-up for The Turtle Man on weekends, and I don’t trap rabid animals with my bare hands, backwoods style.

Reckless Plan #3: “We really should call the fire department!” Silly me, I must have forgotten that fire departments deal with… well, fires.

Screen, it's what's for dinner. [credit: apartmenttherapy.com]

Screen, it’s what’s for dinner.
[credit: apartmenttherapy.com]

But with four loud chomps and more nails-on-a-chalkboard scratching, the squirrel was gone. My guy and I looked at each other in astonishment, both of us taking a second to rationalize what had happened, and each silently questioning ourselves if the entire event was a delusion caused by early morning wake-ups on the weekend.

The large chewed hole in our screen window suddenly illuminated as both the entrance and exit of our ninja-mocking squirrel. And the hours of laughter and conversation that followed this ridiculous event solidified that the squirrel experience had occurred, and neither of us were suffering from delusions of grandeur or rodents.

But most of all, the entire frantic experience brought to light the reason for the chemistry between us. We weren’t brought together for the purpose of love.

We were brought together to work as a team through crazy situations, work as alliances when facing enemies, and work as best of friends to laugh over the subtly mishandled adventures of our life.

21 responses to “When Fates Collide.

  1. LOL. Intense visitor. And I guess you have your partner in crime right next to you. πŸ˜‰

  2. your visual with words was awesome. fully enjoyed your morning adventure.

  3. Excellent tale, and excellent tails too… squirrels that is! Such cheeky creatures. We have two that live at the bottom of our garden in our very large hedge. One was found on the roof below our open bedroom window the other day, I’m guessing it won’t be long before we have our own squirrely mayhem to deal with… any advice now that you’re a veteran? πŸ™‚

    • Thank you for the kind words and for stopping by! πŸ™‚ I would have to say at a veteran squirrel wrangler, the bob and weave boxing movement can’t be underestimated. They tend to throw themselves every which way, so blocking and avoiding is essential.

      • Great tips, I’m taking notes furiously! πŸ™‚
        I look forward to more of your tales, though hopefully no more tails!
        Have a great week!

  4. Aw, a very funny and very sweet post.

  5. Oh my gosh, that would totally freak me out!

  6. Been there with this one. It was terrifying. Half the neighbourhood kids sat on our front lawn while we opened every window in the house, hoping it would leave by itself. It didn’t. Heavy-duty gardening gloves, a terry-towelling dressing gown and a brave husband came to the rescue – when he finally believed that it wasn’t my imagination. Poor wee bugger had its tail grabbed as it was wrenched from under a bed, claws sinking into the carpet. Several attempts before we were rodent-free. Not an experience I would care to repeat. The kids thought it was great, though!x

    • So glad you can relate! Well, “glad” probably isn’t the proper word, because you and I both know how horrifying this experience is! To think I normally smiled upon the scurrying squirrels early in the morning outside my window. Now I know the truth… they are ruthless ninjas just waiting to attack.

      • My brother is a tree surgeon and calls them flea-ridden rats with bushy tails. He told me this before the episode, so a big part of my worry was ending up with squirrel fleas. As well as potentially having a finger bitten off. Cute? Once, not now.x

  7. I know it wasn’t funny at the time, but your description had me laughing! Amazing what havoc a little rodent can wreak. Love your kitties – I have two as well. πŸ™‚

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