Squirrels have all the nuts they need

You just can’t make up stuff like this.

Thursday evening found me in a south side trailer park. Inside one of the tidy manufactured homes I met three women who are defying state game regulations – by turning wild squirrels into house pets.

The Secret Squirrel Society of Spokane.

That’s what these rebels call themselves.

“I’ll go to jail before they get my squirrel,” vowed Rita Amunrud.

I’ve seen a lot of bizarre things over the years. This was my first encounter with nuts crusading for the right to bear squirrels.

I’ve met Amunrud before. She is coincidentally one of players in the effort to boot Spokane Mayor Jim West out of office.

Carol and Nel, the other squirrelly advocates, were new to me.

Carol and Nel don’t want their identities publicized. They want to stay under the radar, fearing wildlife agents may haul away their pets, Sara Jane and Punkin.

Anonymous squirrel sources.

I’ve hit a new low.

But it does show how committed these women are to their squirrels.

Or that they should be committed because of their squirrels.

“Sara knows I’m her mommy,” Carol told me.

Nel handed me a heavy photo album. The book contained dozens upon dozens of snapshots: Squirrel with fortune cookie. Squirrel at play. Squirrel climbing furniture. Squirrel nibbling dog cookie …

Some parents don’t have this many photographs of their kids.

Amunrud wasn’t worried about blowing her cover. She and her own squirrel friend – Girl Squirrel – were outed in a recent local TV news segment about the woman’s squirrel woes.

That’s how the SSSS was born. Carol saw the spot and gave Amunrud a call. Then she called her friend Nel.

The three believe they are but a small part of a grand and furry cause, that there are untold citizen squirrel guardians out there.

“There’s gotta be hundreds,” said Nel.

“It’s an entire subculture,” offered Amunrud.

“Men have ‘em, too,” added Carol. “It’s not just psycho-babbling women.”

Amunrud’s troubles came after someone saw her with her pet and ratted her out to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. Last month, the organization sent Amunrud a letter. It told her that “Washington law prohibits anyone other than a state licensed wildlife rehabilitator from holding wildlife in captivity for any reason.”

Despite the warning, I doubt these women have much to worry about. It will be years before the Homeland Security Act reaches the Squirrel Police stage.

The Secret Squirrels counter that they have adopted only animals that were hurt or ailing and would surely die if placed back into the wilds.

Carol took me into a side room. She introduced me to Sara Jane. The thing huffed at me like an angry reader.

I can take a hint.

Carol’s husband didn’t join in the squirrel chatter. He sat in the other room watching TV throughout our meeting.

“He’s jealous because the squirrel gets more attention than he does,” said Carol.

Their squirrel is a big part of their family. It even rides with them on their out-of-state motor home trips.

Nel’s squirrel has the run of her house. It lives in one of those carpet-covered cat condos.

Oh, well. The women are happy. The squirrels are happy.

Who are we to judge?

Before I bid them adieu, Carol let me know she wasn’t only interested in squirrel rights issues. Like Amunrud, she also supports the West recall. Carol, however, has engaged her squirrel in the fight.

“Whenever The Spokesman-Review prints a picture of our illustrious mayor,” she added, “I make sure it’s face up in Sara’s potty box.”

Like I said, you can’t make this stuff up.