My Life With the Squirrels

Everyone knows that where there's a park, there are squirrels. Lots of them. Washington Park, where we live in Denver, is no exception. These fuzzy, brave and extremely devilish little critters are everywhere. Truly, it's entertaining to observe the daily zig-zag adventure which defines a life of a squirrel. The first words that come to mind when I hear the word "squirrel" are frolic, scamper and bounce. How bad a life can that be? Unfortunately for the placental mammal world, the next three words are dirty, gnawing and cunning. Zoologically speaking, a squirrel is a rodent and they certainly live up to that moniker. Their only saving grace is that cute, quizzical expression that makes you wonder what they're thinking.

On the squirrel-fan spectrum, I probably land right in the middle. They don't bother me to the point of wanting to exterminate them, but I certainly don't seek them out or spend my days hoping the squirrels will be my friends. They come with the territory. I get it. My dog, on the other hand, is card-carrying member of the "I loathe squirrels" club. Mabry is a 7 year-old, 7 lb. Yorkie and he is completely perplexed by our move to squirrel country. He spends his days gazing out the window, targeting the furry creatures for a future showdown. Cody loves to take Mabry to the park to let him terrorize the inhabitants. As of a week ago, the squirrels officially have the upper hand in this battle. Somehow Mabry managed to break two bones in his foot chasing them. Now, he hobbles along on a heavy cast remembering his glory days when the squirrels would run from him. We perch him on our porch to give him a view of the enemy. Normally he'd bound off the wall and burst into a dead gallop. Today, he sits and shakes, frustrated by his lack of mobility and disgusted by their taunting tail flicks.

Yesterday, I took him to the park and was sure he wouldn't try to chase anything. I was wrong. Cast and all, he went after an unsuspecting terrorist, but his significant handicap was an insurmountable factor. I wonder if I've ever felt so passionately about something that I'd be willing to break a leg (or sprint on a broken leg) to reach my goal? Nothing comes to mind, except maybe the chance to own a successful, well-bred Grand Prix jumper (like Sapphire, pictured here - from hunterjumpernews.com). I'd break a leg for that (both of them really...and an arm).

This afternoon, Cody and I noticed some squirrel road-kill in front of our house. It's bound to happen I suppose. Never one to pass up a teaching moment, Cody grabbed the kids and gathered them around the fallen rodent. "This is what can happen when squirrels run into the street," he told them. Their shocked faces were fixated on the mess in front of them. Truly, it was not pretty, but the image hopefully reinforced the danger of running into the street. As we headed back to the house, I think I saw a vengeful smirk on Mabry's lips. Perhaps he chased that squirrel into the street when we weren't looking. Who has the upper hand now, rodents?