There seems to be an ongoing saga between myself and chipmunks.

Last fall, my roommate and I had a bona fide Disney Princess Moment. With chipmunks.

Two weekends ago, the cat chased a chipmunk inside the house. I caught it with an oven mitt and a Vince Dooley collector cup.

Last weekend, the cat brought a dead chipmunk in the house. Turns out it wasn’t dead. Insanity ensued on and off for hours, but Kelly and I thought we chased it out eventually. We weren’t 100 % sure.

And then today while I’m trying to get this multimedia project done for class tomorrow, the cat finds a chipmunk in my pants on the floor. And then…

That last one is screaming for an LOLcat caption. My brain is spent right now. Caption it for me?

I finally caught the chipmunk with a 1-inch binder and a pack of light sensitive paper. Wish I had pictures of that, but I was more concerned with getting the thing back outside.

I like all kinds of critters and I’m certainly not afraid of them. I wouldn’t really care a chipmunk was in my house - my landlord might - but… they chew through things. Things like wires and piping. Can’t have that. They also poop, and this house is dirty enough as it is.

I almost felt bad letting the cat chase it like it did while I took pictures. Outside is fair game, but cornered in a room just isn’t fair. But when it was cornered, I put the cat out and tried to catch it myself like last time, but it quickly got un-cornered and there was no way in this room in it’s current state I’d have been able to get it without help. My camera just happened to be ready and waiting, so Peanut and I played National Geographic briefly. I actually got ran over a few times by both parties in the chase. I didn’t get scratched or bit though, amazingly, so if I start acting a little nuts anytime soon, it’s not rabies - it’s finals.

Yup. I catch runaway rodentia in my messy house with cups and office supplies.

Mad skills.

You know, if this photojournalism thing falls through, I might have found my calling.