I have been very patient with the squatters in my garden–the uninvited Mr. and Mrs. Gopher–gently encouraging them to move elsewhere…but I am starting to feel like Bill Murray in Caddyshack.

I have pursued the advice of experts, who shake their head, sympathetically, but offer no help other than poisoning them or using smoke bombs or shooting them between the eyes (though, after my sixth tomato plant disappeared down their subway system last week, I was glad I didn’t own a gun).

So I went to the garden store yesterday and bought a squealing machine that promises to convince the Gophers that a predator is in the area, make them scream in terror (picture on the box actually shows them screaming), and run away from my garden, never to return.

They’ll probably move over to my neighbor’s yard, which won’t do much for our neighborly relationship.

But…that’s another problem for another day.

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