A Visitor

I walked in my kitchen tonight after changing the water on my lawn. In the middle of the floor sat my visitor. It was a chipmunk!!! I ran back outside; he ran down the hall. Rats, I can't have a rodent running around in the bedrooms. Leaving the back door open and armed with my trusty broom, I ran to the front door and open it. I turned around and there he was, sneaking behind the couch. I screamed. Yes, I'm not proud; but this is a truthful accounting. And that ridiculously high-pitched squeak (it was a poor excuse for a scream) confused the critter who turned in a circle and ran into the kitchen. I didn't see where he went (the little beggar is very fast); but I'm assuming he had some intelligence and headed for the open door. I ran down the hall and closed all those doors and the front door. But just in case, the back door is still open (a welcome to all those flies outside) and I'm typing with my feet held as high off the floor as I can manage. I've always enjoyed the rare glimpses I've had of this fellow when he ventures out of the woodpile into the great beyond of my yard. But I think he crossed a line today. I know he looks cute, but that doesn't thaw my cold, cold heart at all. What if he made it back into the bedrooms when I wasn't looking. How will I sleep tonight? EEEEEEEK.