With the weather warming up, the squirrels are out in force. I watch them from my front and back window, cavorting around. (The squirrels cavort. Not me.) I love how light on their feet they are.
Squirrel tails are so cool-looking, fluffy and substantial, and they flick them with more talent than a Regency woman holding a fan. Sometimes I wish I had one of those tails just to display a squirrel's level of attitude without saying a word. When my kids do something I just don't have the language to deal with unless I erupt, I could do what our resident squirrel Harvey does (all squirrels here are named Harvey) to our dog--flick my tail in elegant indignation.
Once, when I was a teen, some kids I knew had a baby squirrel for a pet. Somehow I thought its fur would be bristly, but it was the softest thing I'd ever touched. Their liquid brown eyes are so beautiful too.
And one of the greatest things about squirrels? They make me laugh. Not only the way they torment the dog, but how they look when they're scampering about. They remind me of sideways parentheses. (And we all know how I love parentheses.)