I don’t know who I’m more mad at – Steve for giving Baby Girl the password to my blog, or Baby Girl for going behind my tail to get my blog’s password! Thankfully Walter helped me change Steve’s password and I’m not giving him the new one until he promises to think of others before he thinks of himself. That’ll be the day!!!
But first, I must apologize to you. Things have been so busy here I’m afraid I’ve neglected my blogging responsibilities. There’s been a frenzy of activity, from visitors, to vacations, to my moms getting married… yes, married! Not to mention growing tensions between the neighborhood squirrels and my canine brothers. So many things to observe that I wish there were two or three of me!! And so I apologize for not visiting your blogs or posting more on mine.
Speaking of the squirrels, I’m beginning to worry for my brothers’ safety. The squirrels have always been around (I watch them compete with the birds at the feeders from my sunny spot in the window), but lately they’ve started stirring up trouble, really prodding the boys. The General and Walter may be bigger, but the squirrels have numbers. And I mean NUMBERS.
Walter, who is normally very analytical, loses all sense of perspective when he catches sight of one of those little brown rodents hanging from the bird feeder taunting him mercilessly. If LOUD Mom were home, she’d bang on the windows to scare them off (as successful at keeping the squirrels away as Sisyphus was at getting that rock to the top of the hill). But they know when she’s gone, and they really ramp up their efforts.
As soon as one of our moms gets home and that back door opens, Walter and The General are off to the races, running — or, in The General’s case, trotting – in all directions to rid our yard of those varmints. The squirrels dart onto the fence then climb into the trees, laughing at the fellas from above as they stand below looking up and barking ferociously.
Walter and The General harbor the fantasy that they’ll catch each and every squirrel until one day there are none. But who are they kidding? Especially, The General! He has a better chance of winning the vet’s Biggest Loser competition than catching a squirrel!! And last time around he gained weight during the contest!
Complicating the situation, the squirrels seem to be in cahoots with other shady characters – like the mole that’s digging up our yard and the raccoon that took up residence in our crawl space during this year’s summer deluge. I’m pretty sure they’re all up to no good. Even the birds are getting in on the action, dive bombing the furry beasts when they go outside, confusing and distracting them from the chase!
Eggnog, who, because of her former gangsta thug life, is familiar with various criminal enterprises, says that the squirrels, moles, raccoons, and birds have developed a complex network of associations and are likely trafficking in bird seed and peanuts and using chipmunks as mules. That sounds like trouble to me!
After discussing the situation with his troops and Walter (who hid under a table in a fit of nerves over the situation), The General said the only solution is to form a partnership with an equally seedy element. One that has the ability to run fast, squeeze into tight spaces, and climb trees. Yes, Walter and Sherman want to form an alliance with The Springhill Ballers.
Steve, who is accustomed to lazily watching the squirrels empty the feeders without batting a paw, doesn’t understand the frenzy. He says the squirrels are only tormenting you if you let them. (That’s actually kind of deep for Steve.) But seeing an opportunity to re-connect with his buddies in the gang, he offered to reach out to their leader, Gus.
If Gus is willing to help, I’m worried about what he would want in return. I doubt The General would give up any of his troops, and I don’t think any of the Ballers would want to have Walter deconstructing what he calls their “gang discourse” or engage in a discussion with him over the “ideological impact of their destruction of flower beds,” whatever that means.
Gus is trouble, so I’m not sure where this is headed, but it can’t be good. Sometimes I miss the days where a moth flying along the ceiling was the only excitement going on in this house!