1M CaCl2 olicalf
Squirrels in my backyard taunt my puppy. The give her a wiggle of the tail, pause enticingly like smouldering hot plates of veal scallopini, then dance off hither and thither among the branches of the maple, the mulberry, the pines... those unidentifiable bush-trees that grow in almost every American city, but no one has a name for them. I've heard them called junk trees, but that seems inappropriate. After all, they're part of the oxygen delivery system that helps keep us up and about.
Back in the days when it would have been legal to beat my wife, there were easy remedies. I could could have laid out poisonous bait, or simply popped them with a .22 rifle, also legal to discharge within city limits, at that time. Now, I sit and wait for them... evil telepathic powers at the ready. I'm gonna make those sucker's heads explode! Watch!