Rocky start

As a rule I refrain from including in this blog aspects of my personal life that aren’t film related. But this was just too weird.

When I woke up this morning I heard my cat, the redoubtable Yodel, scratching around at something in the hall of my apartment. I went to check and he was staring intently at the kepi, a French officers cap, hanging on the wall (sometimes I like to pretend I’m Jack Lemmon in “Irma La Douce”). On the hat was a small animal.

At first I thought it was a mouse or even a rat, but it jumped off the hat and was gliding down the hall, Yodel in  cautious pursuit. The creature was in no danger: Yodel is a pacifist; he probably just wanted to start a dialogue, learn about a new culture, exchange ideas. Anyway, whatever it was had holed up behind a bookcase.

I had a brain storm. I could use the laundry basket (luckily I had just made my annual visit to the laundromat so it was almost empty) as a net, set it up on one side of the bookcase and with Yodel standing guard at the other, I could pull the bookcase away from the wall, shunting the beast into the cage. I felt like Steve Irwin. Bring on the stingray!

It worked. Nonetheless, as I carried it down the two flights to let it out the front door, the animal slithered up and out of the basket. Was it possessed? As it shimmied down the hallway about a half inch off the ground. I noticed it had membranes stretching from its forelegs to its rearlegs, allowing it to become airborne. Finally, I coaxed it back into the basket and set it free; it went like a bullet up a tree.

Turns out the creature was a northern flying squirrel. So I started the day with a flying squirrel on my kepi. What next, a talking moose? Has anyone else had a flying squirrel in their apartment? Or something stranger?

Anyway, once I pull myself together, I’ll resume writing about film.

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