At the end of the day, the squirrels won

I had a tomato fight with my wife the other day. It was a one-tomato battle. She threw it; I almost caught it.
It all started in our backyard garden as we were picking tomatoes from the patch. Those that were damaged or split were tossed into a nearby garbage can. My wife picked up a big ripe one that had been partially eaten by something and tried to get rid of it.
I know her aim is not the best from past experiences, so I picked up the garbage can, held it out like a large portable basketball hoop, and she let fly. It was a bit off, but as I moved the can to catch it, the ripe tomato hit the edge of the container.
It not only splatted against the garbage can, it exploded all over my shirt and … face. I was stunned. What just happened?
That my wife was doubled over in laughter in the middle of the tomato patch was bad enough. But when our son found out, the real guffawing began. Thankfully, he has a bad back, or he’d be on the floor rolling around.
I think the bite marks from the tomato were probably from squirrels getting into the garden. Whether it’s true or not, I’ll stick with it. After all, squirrels get blamed for a lot of things, rightly or wrongly.
Speaking of squirrels, not sure what one of the bucked-tooth vermin was doing the other day, but it was sneaking along the grass almost on its stomach (much like a sneaky cat) when all of the sudden it jumped in the air and did a pirouette, like it had a hot foot or something.
I watched for awhile, and it repeated the circus moves a few more times. Then it moved on as if nothing happened.
Strange critters.
We had relatives over recently. We were sitting out in the backyard when it began. A nut hit the flat roof out back, then rolled along and off the roof. Then the pace picked up. Some nuts landed next to where we were sitting, others simply slid off the roof and into the grass.
But when some zipped by my grandson’s head or his dad’s beer can, we knew the battle had begun. Where are the helmets? Where is the water hose? Hide the children!
“Incoming!” was the phrase of the day. But after so many close calls, we didn’t budge after awhile. The squirrels’ aim was off that day. But you could sense they were going to hit a target sooner or later. Law of averages.
And it finally happened.
I could almost hear it coming. It hit the roof, bounced and nailed me on the noggin. There was “squirrel” cheering on the tree limbs above. Lucky shot.
But those vermin got better with their aim as the afternoon wore on, finally chasing us inside. Or maybe it was the mosquitoes.
Too bad squirrels don’t eat mosquitoes, or vice versa … that would be the best of both worlds.
Rich Glennie was the editor of The Chronicle for 23 years. He retired Aug. 1, 2014.