Dale the chipmunk has a chip on his shoulder.

Okay, I confess, the chip might be partially my fault. I may have given Dale the idea he was welcome then pulled the mat out from under his tiny feet.

One beautiful day a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting on the front porch when Dale ran along the sidewalk carrying what appeared to be some kind of nesting material in his mouth.

Good, I thought.

Maybe that will keep him from burrowing in my potted plants like he is searching for buried treasure.

Despite being a tad destructive, Dale is entertaining to watch. When I told him I thought he was cute, Dale seemed to take the compliment in stride and went about the task at hand. I was impressed with his work ethic.

I should not have been.

The next morning, I looked out the front window to see that the little rat dug a hole the size of Connecticut in the middle of my landscaped flowers, leaving a mess of dirt and mulch in his wake.

It dawned on me while I was doling out compliments, he must have been digging the hole right under my nose. It was time to get tough like a Kathy Bates movie character, Towanda!

Back when I was off earning the bacon and Larry was home with the boys, I heard some interesting shenanigans went on.

Among other things, they used firecrackers to blow little green army men sky high in the sandbox.

Although it would be fun to watch a mini explosion, I quickly dismissed the idea in case any chipmunks were down in the hole making little chipmunks to carry on their reign of terror.

I settled for sending a flood Dale’s way. The next morning the hole was twice the size of Connecticut!

Larry indulges me when I strive to live in harmony with animals big and small.

He found an elbow shaped PVC pipe and stuck it down the hole. It was a perfect inch and a half in diameter. I had some ideas to make it look like part of the landscape. I was sure Dale would be pleased.

The sun was going down that evening when Larry and I heard incessant chittering. I peeked out the window to find Dale giving me the business in front of the entry to his new digs.

His mouth was moving a chipmunk-mile-a-minute before I realized I was not looking at the happy face I had expected. My dream to get along with the little dude was nothing but a pipe dream.

Time to set aside niceties.

I pointed a finger at Dale and gave him my best sass right back. I told him in no uncertain terms, he either adapted to the pipe or else.

Larry and I were not budging. We have tackled bigger hurdles than a rodent with an attitude.

Dale stared back at me for what seemed like forever then quietly scurried off. I felt victorious, but I thought about sleeping with one eye open that night.

I looked out the window first thing in the morning to see Dale standing on the sidewalk looking back at me. He didn’t let out a peep, but I could tell his mood had not improved.

Two days before the deadline to send this, I was enjoying the cool morning air in the same spot on the porch when Dale came darting out from under a plant. As he eye-balled me, I reminded him he lives near a flood plain, and good landlords are only accommodating to a degree.

-Rita Zorn is a wife, mother, grandmother and lifetime Monroe County resident. She can be reached at 7.noniez@gmail.com

This article originally appeared on The Monroe News: Rita’s Reflections