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Doug Clark: Rodent squatter proves no match for Les Schwab ingenuity

In today’s episode of Dealing With Annoying Wildlife, we will learn how Amy Mitchell got rid of the stowaway marmot who set up a bachelor pad under the hood of her 2010 Toyota RAV4.

So grab a notebook and a pen. You’ll probably want to jot down the following marmot removal implements the registered nurse used, lest this horror happen to you.

1. MagLite (the heavy kind)

2. Dog food (for luring)

3. Pair of gloves (biteproof, hopefully)

4. Broom handle (longer the better)

OK. Once the items are assembled, your next step is to CHUCK THEM ALL INTO THE TRASH!

Nothing Mitchell tried worked. The furry trespasser wouldn’t budge from the cozy engine area of the dark green vehicle.

“I kept saying, ‘Dude, you’ve gotta get outta here,’ ” Mitchell said. “He wasn’t buying it.”

Eventually, an idea did come to mind. “I remembered the Les Schwab kitten commercial,” she said.

This is the TV spot where a Woodland, Washington, woman with no apparent mental problems suddenly hears meowing sounds resonating from deep inside her car.

She drives slowly to a Les Schwab Tire Center, where cheerful workers take the vehicle apart and – hooray! – save the cat.

Which is exactly what happened right here in Spokane last Wednesday.

Minus the cute kitty, that is.

“It was fun,” said Rick Woods, who manages the Les Schwab at 101 W. Second Ave. and believes he may now have the company’s first “Marmot Relocation Program.”

There’s a portfolio builder.

Before we recap the chase and reports of long, sharp teeth, let’s flash back to that fateful Saturday when Mitchell’s husband, Jim, observed …

“You have a squeak in your front end. You might want to get that checked out.”

Jim made the comment while the two were headed to the Spokane Arena for a Shock football game.

Mitchell said she didn’t give her car noise another thought until Sunday evening, when she and Jim were in their family room watching television. That familiar “chirpy squeak” started coming from the adjoining garage.

Strange. The car wasn’t even running.

Mitchell went in the garage to investigate but couldn’t find a thing.

So on Monday she drove to Fresenius Medical Care, where Mitchell has worked for 26 years. Back in her North Side home after work, the squeaks returned.

This time Mitchell took along her Welsh terrier, Angus, who seemed a little agitated by the car.

Mitchell opened the hood. Nothing. She looked under the car. Nothing.

Things stayed that way until the same time Tuesday, when everything changed. Hearing noises again, Mitchell went into her garage, raised the hood, and saw this “big ball of fur” curled up on the motor.

“I kind of freaked out,” she recalled, “and dropped the hood.”

Mitchell said she knew it was a marmot from years of watching the critters cavorting around on the rocks by the river.

After catching her breath, Mitchell hatched a plan. She backed her car outside and carefully laid out some dog kibble, hoping to entice her unwanted guest into a dine-and-dash.

Wednesday morning arrived. The dog food looked untouched.

“I’m four days into this,” realized Mitchell, who decided she had to open the hood again and – yikes! “He’s glaring at me.”

Out came the gloves, broomstick and MagLite.

Mitchell spent the next 20 minutes poking and prodding while the marmot squeaked and squirmed but refused to leave.

“I’ve gotta get to work,” Mitchell finally muttered in defeat.

Back at Fresenius, Janice Duvanich, the facility assistant, joined Mitchell’s quest for marmot relief.

Duvanich called the Washington state Department of Fish and Wildlife. She said the person she spoke with suggested that Mitchell should get a hose and try to flush the intruder out.

Janice and Amy also joked about hiring one of those guys who hang out by the freeway with those cardboard “Will Work for Food” signs.

Finally, they called Woods at Les Schwab, who said, “Sure, we’ll give it a try.”

Mitchell, alas, had to work. So Duvanich enlisted Shira Urias, a social worker from California “who didn’t know what a marmot was,” to drive the RAV4 to the tire center.

That agreement was reached, Duvanich said, after the following exchange:

JANICE – “Are you afraid of marmots?”

SHIRA – “Am I afraid of Mormons?”

JANICE – “No. Marmots. A kind of rock beaver.”

Actually, the Rock Beavers would make a good name for a garage band. But eventually Urias agreed to drive the Marmot-mobile to the tire center, with Duvanich following in her own set of wheels.

Woods said they put the RAV4 in one of the garage bays and closed the doors.

“Didn’t want him running out into traffic,” he reasoned.

Now we know why Woods is the manager.

What followed next belonged on an Animal Planet reality show.

They popped the RAV4 hood and …

“I looked down into the motor and saw the lump of fur,” Woods said. “It was built sort of like a badger with loose skin – and teeth.”

“It had some pretty big chompers on it,” agreed employee Justin Pomranky, 20.

Some obstructive plastic was removed from the Toyota. A retractable pointer was used to prod the marmot into leaving its mechanized sanctuary.

Then the chase was on. Pandemonium ensued for a moment until Pomranky, who said he “grew up in the woods,” put his gloved hands around the critter’s midsection and plopped him safely in an ice chest.

“He definitely wasn’t happy,” noted Pomranky, who spread his hands to about a football-and-a-half wide to indicate how big the beast was. He added that he could feel the raw strength of the marmot underneath its fur.

“That was definitely an adventure,” he said.

All that was left was for Pomranky to drive to a woodsy spot in Peaceful Valley where he set the marmot free.

It “hesitated a second and then took off,” he said.

I smell another Schwab commercial coming on.

And why not?

Mitchell got her Toyota back with no unwanted mammals aboard. No fingers were lost during the making of this marmot tale.

And if you like happy endings, Mitchell offered to pay but Woods wouldn’t hear of it.

Yep. Everything turned out great.

Well, almost everything.

Mitchell admitted she’s “still a little skittish” of what could be living inside her RAV4.

Duvanich agreed.

“I’m afraid maybe we’re all driving around with marmots in our cars.”

Doug Clark can be reached at (509) 459-5432 or dougc@spokesman.com.

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