Musings on the CabinDwelling life, Pt. 1

Today, my roommate [cough] went to the transfer station to drop off some trash, and witnessed a scene so perfect, oh, my peoples, it just encapsulates that je-ne-sais-quois that is Fairbanks.

Seriously, there was a dude dumpster-diving, which in of itself is no Big Thang here -- but the successful diver took his find ... and then drove off with it in his Mercedes.

And while we're at it, let us consider the sign at the University Road station which basically says, 'you might consider your animals trash, but you can't dump their bodies here.'

And in followup, I have a question, or rather a situation leading to a question.

I've got some squirrel issues. It all began with Bob*, the first one that was living in my cabin's roof when I moved in. Squirrels are basically rats with a nicer set of clothes and better p.r.**, and I was not too happy about listening to Bob's little claws as he'd walk around upstairs in the evenings. Not to mention that my old craptastic cabin leaks heat (costing me fuel) because there is likely not a shred of insulation up there in Ye Olde Squirrel Hostel and Party Pad.

And let's not even discuss how squirrel-obsessed my dogs have become.

So, months ago, I "did something" about Bob. And then, Evelyn moved in shortly thereafter. Again, I "took care" of it. Many squirrels later, and well, there seems to be a never-ending supply of them. Luckily, The Roomie is a good shot and has been unemployed and really has been quite dedicated dispatching them with a .22. (We're using .22 shorts because there are neighbors to consider.)

But we now have what I'll delicately term a squirrel remains disposal problem. Is the dump appropriate, keeping in mind the transfer station's sign discouraging that sort of thing? Do I keep digging little unmarked squirrel graves?

*Oh, it's too long a story to explain how the names started. 20-some of the furry little squatters later, we've stopped with the names.
**Thank you, Disney!