Beware the vengeful squirrel

I get it: you’re scared to sleep in that room.

First of all, son, they aren’t dead pet bunnies; they’re dead pet bunnies’ ashes. And the boxes are totally sealed.

How evil could the ghosts of dead bunnies be, anyway? What’re they going to do, wiggle their little ghost-noses at you until you piss yourself with fear? The only known case of a rabbit attacking a human was in a Monty Python movie, and I’m pretty sure that was only inspired by a true story. But if it really makes you feel better, we can remove the bunny ashes from the room.

And second, what you probably don’t realize is that there’s even fresher dead stuff stuck in the room’s walls. Remember that awful stench a few months ago? Any idea why it smelled like there was rotting flesh in the walls for about 2 weeks? Because there was rotting flesh in the walls for about 2 weeks, that’s why.

It was probably a mouse or a rat. Maybe a squirrel. Most likely, it crawled through a hole in the attic wall, made it’s way along the wall and eventually, being the stupid little critter it was, got lost and couldn’t find its way back out. If you want to be scared of something, be scared of vengeful squirrel-ghosts.

I’m not saying you’re wrong to be scared; I’m not saying it’s silly to be scared, or that there’s nothing to be scared about. Fear is fear, whether rationally generated or not.

When I was your age, I put myself at ease by sneaking my dad’s gun out of the safe, grabbing a box of bullets from the cabinet and keeping both by my bed. That probably wasn’t a great idea, but since your primary concern appears to be bunny ghosts, I’m not sure how exactly that would help anyway. Guns are far more effective against live stuff.

The truth is, your fears are real but irrational.  As a dad, I want to be able to help you solve your problems. If you were still 4 years old, I could pretend I saw the bunny ghosts get on a bus with tickets to Edmonton or something. You’d buy my totally irrational explanation and go to bed comfortable in the idea that they were gone.

But you’re twelve. You are selectively rational. You have no problem believing that the ghosts of long-dead pet bunnies will try to snuff you out in the dark of night while you sleep.  Sure, that sounds totally reasonable. Yet my suggestion that they left on the bus to Edmonton? Completely irrational: “Daaaduh! Ghosts don’t ride busses! Why would a ghost need to ride a bus? They can just fly!”

Right. What was I thinking?