Wednesday, April 2, 2014

I am not

A squirrel dropped by yesterday.
It came the back way and paused on my deck rail to rifle through the parsley in the planter.
I didn't think that was appropriate for a visitor.
You have to draw the line somewhere.
Because I don't have a dog, I was forced to leap out the door and bay at the squirrel myself.
Squirrels are very acrobatic and this one turned a complete somersault while it got its bearings.
"Arrrrrrrrrgggghjhhhhhhhh," I shrieked, looking at my tattered parsley.
The squirrel looked for an escape route even as I did a high speed rendition of YMCA accompanied by yelling, hissing and unkind remarks about squirrels in general and that one in particular.
It finally managed to squeeze through the deck railings, choosing in its panic, the very furthest, smallest space, proof positive that stress temporarily lowers your IQ.
I rushed to my parsley and replanted it with trembling fingers. Poor little plant. I watched a TV special just this past week on the language of plants. On how they communicate with each other. On how they warn each other about predators. I'm pretty sure my little parsley plant screamed in fright when that giant squirrel breathed all over it with peanut breath. Mind you, I'm pretty sure the squirrel was just as terrified when I erupted from the house with a roar.
Nature is delicately balanced.
I am not.

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