A little while back, I discussed the mole that had decided to take up residence underneath the lawn. Well, here’s the update for which I know you’ve all been waiting. Before I could blast Yoko Ono or do anything else dramatic, he seemed to have vacated for greener pastures (i.e., other peoples’ lawns). That was until a couple of weeks ago when apparently, he missed me.

One day, the familiar dirt mound was back on the walkway. I didn’t see his cute little face when I looked down the hole but my mother had an encounter with him that would have been hilarious to catch on video, that is, if it didn’t lead to an accident. Let me explain.

On the side patch of lawn separating the house from the neighbors, there’s a palm tree. When the houses were built in this neighborhood back in the early 1950s, all the houses had palm trees. I have no idea why since Daly City’s weather is about as far from tropical as a place can get. Daly City is where the fog settles in like an unwanted houseguest who doesn’t want to leave.

So, as you would expect from a palm tree, there are palm fronds that fall onto the ground. Well, one day my mother was picking up some of these fronds and one in particular was not budging. She was confused until she saw that the other end of the frond was in one of the mole holes. (A bit like the photo on the left.) It seems that she was playing a game of tug of war with the mole.

After a little more forceful tugging, Mom was able to extract the frond without pulling the mole up with it. She came into the house laughing hysterically, saying that it was a good thing that she still did her biceps curls because she would have been embarrassed if she had fallen on her ass, losing a strength contest to a mole. That wouldn’t have been good for her ego or for the newly fused discs in her back.

So, the mole was back and kicking the dirt all around. A friend of my mother’s told her that moles hate onions. Okay. Did you know that? I sure didn’t. How was that knowledge gleaned? Was there some mole focus group? Did pollsters take a break from asking about Herman Cain and instead queried moles on their favorite garnishes? We decided to give it a try.

Mom cut up part of an onion and put it down the hole. The next morning, it was tossed onto the walkway. I figured that either onions gave him heartburn or he wanted the burger, fries and shake to go along with the onion. I can’t fault him for expecting a Happy Meal. Unsure of what condiment to feature on the next mole menu, I finally decided that the time had come to scare the mole with sound. And I wasn’t talking Yoko Ono.

This is the “Molemover”. It’s a battery-operated garden stake that emits the type of alarm and distress calls that rodents make to warn their buddies that danger is approaching and that it’s time to drop the onion rings, put away the playing cards and move to another neighborhood. To my great surprise, it seems to have worked. There are no more unwanted dirt mounds on the walkway. No tug of war and no onions. Now, the only mole I see is of the cartoon variety. So much better.