There is a squirrel at work. He’s been semi-domesticated. Someone feeds him regularly. This has led to the creepy little bastard being completely unafraid of humanity. He just scurries around the building all day long, carrying dried corn kernels and peanut shells around behind him. He’s like a tiny little shopping-cart lady.
I’m not a veterinarian. I don’t know anything about animal dietary health.
I’m pretty sure that you aren’t supposed to feed squirrels honey-roasted peanuts and corn. I mean, I shouldn’t eat those things. This little guy… well, I think his diet has made him snap. The poor little squirrel has gone completely around the bend…
… and now I’m terrified of him.
I have to walk past this little screwball every morning and every afternoon as I scurry off to my own work. He runs back and forth along the window sill as I walk past, and he always gives me the stink-eye. Have you ever seen a squirrel giving you the stink-eye?
I wish I could say I hadn’t.
A few short months ago, I wouldn’t have. Normal squirrels, Missouri squirrels, don’t have time for human activity. They’re too busy doing proper squirrel things, like… I don’t know, packing trees with nuts and fighting tiny Jedi battles. These Montana Squirrels, though. They’re crazy little freaks of nature. I think this little guy might be planning to murder me in my sleep. He stalks me as I walk down the sidewalk.
I don’t make eye contact anymore.
Not since the day I found him fist-fighting his own reflection. The little dude was just going to town on himself in the window. I worried for a moment that his little squirrel paws were going to get torn to crap the way he was beating on that glass. Then, he just stopped. As I watched him, he just turned his head in that crazy-man tilt, you know the one, the one that says, “if I could get to my shank right now, I’d make you-eye-stew.” Then… he snarled at me.
Now, I know that some of you probably think it’s funny to be afraid of a tiny little squirrel, but I think you missed something important about this squirrel.
He’s clearly trained in the martial arts.
I mean, how many people do you know that spend hours every day shadowboxing? Right. Only people that are preparing for a big fight.
Normally, I’d be like, “Awesome, Squirrel war.” I mean, I’ve seen more than a my faire share of Territorial Disputes between the various Squirrel gangs of the Midwest. Squirrels are pretty BA little tactical geniuses, you know.
But this squirrel, I’ve clearly done something to offend him.
There isn’t really anything I can do, either. I’m no Piper Chapman. When this little guy decides it’s time to make me his shanky-bitch, that’s what’s going to happen. I can’t think of a clever way out of it. I’m not that crafty.
So, I keep walking past him as quickly as I can, hearing the words he can’t actually say oozing off of his expressions.
“That’s right, fat boy, you’d better power-walk on by. Don’t make me smack-a-bitch.”
His little squirrel threats haunt my nightmares.
I’m not sure where to go from here.
One day, I’m just going to have to accept his squirrely wrath. Accept it, and hope, pray, that when the time comes, one of those really big-ass terrifying crows from down the road comes to my rescue.
I’d rather be a crow’s bitch.
At least those guys know how to treat a fellow. You know what I’m saying?