Ad Nauseam - By C. W. LaSart Page 0,21

to respond and he laughed in surprise when it peeked over the edge, fixing him with beady black eyes. Devon let loose with a whiny growl as the critter balanced on the gutter, his front half hanging over the edge. The squirrel screeched his indignation as his tiny paws balled up into fists that shook with rage. William nearly doubled over with laughter at the sight.

“Okay little guy. I understand how you feel, but how about you move on so my wife doesn’t make me get rid of you?” William felt an unexpected affection for the irate trespasser, an admiration for his bravery and stubbornness when facing a larger opponent. Still, he wasn’t about to listen to Kristi bitch about the squirrel all summer. Devon woofed in agreement.

Grabbing the industrial pooper scooper he had bought at the farm-and-fleet store last fall, William set about the unpleasant task of cleaning up Devon’s mounds of poo. The dog usually sat by the fence and watched with a suitably apologetic look on his old face, but today he didn’t bother. Remaining seated, the hound continued to growl low in his throat, his eyes never leaving the roof where the squirrel balanced on the gutter, still shaking his tiny fists and squawking.

Sighing, William shook his head on his way to the garage.

“Okay, little guy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

William pulled the ladder from where it hung, neatly, on wall pegs. He knew there was rodent poison somewhere. After a few minutes of looking and cursing, he found the half-full box of pellets and shook some into his hand. Dropping the poison into his pocket, he picked the ladder up and carried it over to the porch. The squirrel had given up on chastising Devon and was now leaping from the roof to a nearby tree branch and back, high above the dog’s head. Taking exception to the obvious taunting, Devon growled at the critter.

“That’s enough, squirrel. Quit picking on my dog.”

He set the ladder against the house, checking it for stability before climbing slowly up the rungs.

At the top, William reached into his pocket and grabbed the poison, arranging a loose pile of pellets in the gutter. The squirrel hopped over to the tree branch and screeched once, watching as William picked leaves off the roof and shoved the poison into a heap.

Poor little guy. William felt bad about killing the squirrel. He had always found the rodents kind of cute and fun to watch as they hopped across the lawn, their tails twitching and flowing like a gymnast’s ribbon. But Kristi wanted him dead, and he made a point to ensure his wife always got what she wanted.

“It’s you or me, bud. Come and get it.”

The rusty-colored visitor watched from his tree branch as William took down the ladder and put it away.

When William emerged, he saw the empty branch still swaying, the loud- mouthed rodent back on the roof and approaching the pile of pellets suspiciously. Still feeling a bit guilty, he patted the dog on the head and opened the back door.

“Come on, Devon. We can still get a nap in on the couch before Kristi gets home.”

***

“William? Please tell me you didn’t have that filthy dog in this house.” Kristi stood in the doorway, her finger pointing at the living room sofa.

“Hmmm?” William reclined in his EZ Chair, the television remote resting on his outstretched thigh.

“There’s dog hair all over the couch. Did you have Devon on the couch? You know how I feel about animals in the house.”

“No, dear. Of course not.”

“Then how did all that nasty hair get on there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it fell off my clothes.”

Kristi crossed her arms and glared at William.

“Did you get rid of that squirrel?”

“Yep. Poisoned him. He should probably be dead by tomorrow.” William hated it when Kristi prattled at him during one of his shows. He also hated that she never let Devon come in the house.

That dog’s better company than you most days, anyways, he thought, tuning her out. Their marriage had been passionate in the early years, and William figured this was just the way it went with relationships. A comfortable contempt just settles into the vacancy left when love fades.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kristi had her hands on her hips, a posture that never failed to irritate William.

“What?” He flicked the power button reluctantly, stopping Peter Griffin mid-sentence.

“I said, make sure you find the corpse so it’s not stinking up the yard. The last