My day began at 6:20 in the morning, barely passed sun-up when Mahalia decided she wanted to play. There are times when I wish son Christopher’s apartment allowed pets.
The girl cat likes him best.
She slept on his bed until he moved out, but now she won’t even go into the room. The bed is still there, it should smell like Chris because he took a nap there the other afternoon, but NO, the fur ball insists that I get out of bed at some gawdawful hour on a holiday.
Ahem. Anyway, I did get up, took my sweet time getting water for my medicine and then to fill the teapot.
By then, both cats were protesting mightily that I should get down to the task of putting the wet food into the proper bowls Hhrrumpft.
I decided to get some peace and go out to sit on the back steps whilst they munched. Soon enough, one or the other would paw the door to be let out.
What did I spy about six feet from the end of the driveway?
A squirrel’s tail set at an awkward angle, ablowin’ in the breeze.
Still in my bathrobe, I went over to investigate.
And there was the squirrel who lived in the maple tree with the back half of his little body squashed flat.
Fairly fresh, the blood hadn’t dried yet, but there was no doubt he was dead.
I knew it was the same squirrel because he had a darker brown patch on his right hip. The mailman and I had him so tame he would come up close and grab a bit of cookie from our hands.
One time, he even accosted Chris’s girlfriend as she came up the walk. I had to hurry out with a bit of bread to appease him.
I debated about what to do. I didn’t want to dig a grave, Husband sets the lawnmower to mulch, so getting down to dirt takes quite a bit of effort.
One more poor little dead squirrel in the middle of the road shouldn’t cause so much thinking.
I decided to just fetch a garbage bag and put him in the trash.
I must admit, I said a small prayer for the little guy.
I will surely miss him. And I’ll bet the mailman won’t have nearly as much entertainment next time he parks his truck in the shade of the maple tree.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
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