The Family Squirrel
You may remember the Family Squirrel from THIS POST. The sneaky little guy appears unexpectedly at homes in our family.
Sometimes he’s in disguise, and others times he’s hidden so cleverly that it takes weeks to find him. And sometimes he’s someplace we can’t miss – but his appearance is shrouded in mystery.
Mystery. And Horror.
I was relaxing in bed one recent morning, blind due to my lack of corrective lenses. My son came in from feeding the ducks and said something about a squirrel in the duck house. That surprised me. We thought it was magpies getting into the duck pen, and perhaps a raccoon. Squirrels hadn’t really occurred to me as likely egg-theft culprits.
He then started toward me with a grayish, blurry mass in his hands to show me.
I reacted quickly and clearly so that he would not mistake the fact that I didn’t want to see it any closer, thank you very much.
It may have involved a very girly squeal and words to effect of “get that thing out of here!” I do remember jumping a bit.
Quite a bit.
The boy was highly amused, as you can imagine, but managed to stifle his laughter long enough to clarify “Not a squirrel, Mom, THE squirrel.” It wasn’t funny. Really.
After some detective work, and my traditional accusations against the innocent, the real culprit was apprehended. Some stealthy little in-laws performed their feats of bravery by hopping a fence, wading through a mucky ducky pen and tucking the Family Squirrel safely in the duck house to await discovery at morning feeding time. I’m afraid the poor culprits’ shoes will never be the same.
Fair warning, family. . . the Family Squirrel rides again, and nobody is safe.
