I used to have a squirrel freeway through my backyard, as my elderly neighbor feeds them peanuts all year long. They don't come into my yard much anymore as both of my dogs would love to eat them. One of my dogs is so obsessed with them that she sits by the back sliding glass door morning until night through the summer. She only takes breaks to eat and pee. Once in a while she gets to chase one, but they're too fast for her. They're fiesty little creatures as well. They'll hang out at the tops of the trees and "sass" my dog if she chases one up there. It drives her crazy! The main problem I've had with them is that they love to dig up bulbs, and they actually eat tulip bulbs. Someone on this forum told me that if I bury the tulip bulbs 12 inches deep that the squirrels won't bother them. I'm anxious to try as I've never been able to have tulips in my backyard because of this issue. The only other problem I have with them is that they're constantly burying peanuts everywhere in the fall. The peanuts actually sprout and I am constantly weeding peanut seedlings out of the garden beds. They especially like to hide them in the hosta beds as the dirt is fluffiest in that area. This post was edited by flower-frenzy on Thu, Aug 1, 13 at 21:38

Bostons are great pets. I used to raise and train large dogs and have owned a wonderful dachsund. But I've found that being owned by a Boston is much less strenuous and very entertaining! I knew a male Boston as a child. If a crowd was in the yard, he would pick up and carry two by fours around! I vividly remember that his owner had to remove a stack of boards just to keep him from tripping or smacking guests with his "toys". Even though they aren't very tall or large, Bostons' jaws, shoulders, and necks are extremely strong. They are also very persistent. It's their bulldog, rat catching ancestry. But their early breeding as pets for the wealthy residents of Knob Hill in old Boston has also made them very good with people. Our Boston, Maggie, used to excavate metal objects and bricks in the yard of her previous home. Her pursuit of buried treasure was so focused and relentless that her owners had to dig up and completely remove anything she unearched in order to get her to leave it alone. Apparently, she is an alpha female anyway and, because Bostons are more likely to include people than other dogs in their packs, being around so many other dogs at the breeders made her rather nervous and triggered a taste for the pursuit of buried objects. Consequently, her owners thought she would be happier as an only dog. We wanted only one adult dog, rather than a puppy, because we aren't home all day and wouldn't have had time to really train a puppy properly. Boston's don't seem to mind being home alone during the day as long as they have your company at night. So, in spite of my concern that she might dig up my flower beds, we bought Maggie when she was around three years old. She's turned out to have been the perfect choice and is queen of the house. Since her arrival, she has shown no inclination toward archeology at all. Alone in the back yard, she sniffs around the perimeter and casts disgusted looks at the neighboring labradors that bark incessantly. She does not bark at strangers, at the mailcarrier, or at anyone who comes near her or her territory. The only times she barks are when she launches herself after a tossed toy, when my husband talks directly to her in a loud, friendly voice, and when my daughter dances with her. Mind you, she will only dance with my daughter. That is their "special" activity together. If others try to dance with her, she just smiles at them as though they are nice but quite mad. DH is in a wheelchair most of the time when he is home. Maggie has also figured out how to do figure eights around his wheels and has no fear of being run over in the midst of her fun. She dearly loves DH, whom she has trained to sneak her tidbits, and can tell when he is due home. At 7 p.m. sharp she will get up off the couch, stretch, and sit in front of the door, staring and listening intently for her master's vehicle. If he is over 15 minutes late, she'll come to me with a worried expression. Only my verbal reassurance that "Dad will be home later" will make her lay down and rest. Since she can't see out the front door, if she hears a car, she'll come to me for an explanation. If I tell her "Dad's home", or "The girl's here" (my daughter) or "The boy's here" (my son) she goes into the Boston happy dance, which consists of wagging her entire body, since Bostons are born tailess and with naturally docked looking ears. Another plus, I think. Maggie has completly different relationships with each of our family members and friends. My son will wrestle and rough house with her so she has decided that rough housing is his purpose in life. My daughter dances with her. I feed her and let her out. However, it seems she has also figured out that any human can easily be converted into comfy dog furniture or a fetching machine. When humans enter the back yard with her, she'll leap two to four feet off the ground. Once she has their full attention, she'll find a toy to drop at their feet as a polite hint. If they move about, ignoring her, she'll follow them around, dropping the toy at their feet each time they stop moving. When I work in the garden I have to alternatively dig, toss, dig, toss, prune, toss and so one. She's a huge frizbee and ball fan and will go absolutely anywhere, including into very deep undergrowth and up shrubs or trees that are slightly less than vertical, for a toy. However, because Maggie is rather short, she has learned to carry the frizbee high so that she won't trip herself. She carries it so high that it covers up her head and eyes. We figure she must be navigating by touch, sound and smell because she certainly can't see where she's headed but always gets there. "Aunt" Maggie actually taught our naughty, very spoiled "grandog", Snickers (a chocolate dachsund) to fetch. He's typical for his breed--intelligent, energetic, and stubborn--and thinks it's great fun to bait the neighbor dogs, explore undergrowth, dig, and generally terrorize the place. He will not come when called, except to his "Dad", and must be tricked into doing what Maggie gladly does when asked. Snickers used to simply chase Maggie around while she fetched. Now he fetches but isn't inclined to bring toys back and would rather play chase. When he's being especially naughty, Maggie just watches him, sighs, and looks up at us as if to say, "Hey, he's just not a Boston. What do expect from a crazy weinerdog!"

Oh NO! That doesn't sound very funny to me. That sucks.Have you heard from Verizon yet? I hate calling them. I have wasted so many hours of my life on the phone with those guys. Their fav thing to do is transfer you cause nobody ever knows anything. Guess the good news is you got your roomate to help you do something. Mine's worthless.

I frequently repurpose old deli and yogurt containers. As long as they have been throughly cleaned, they work fine. A trip through the dishwasher does the trick as well. In both cases (this and the bleach routine Marina mentioned,) be sure to rinse the containers afterwards to remove any detergent or bleach residue.