I miss my squirrel friends. every spring, they would return to the giant tree in the neighbour's back yard and we would taunt each other, and run, and stare, and just have a great summer of games. there are no squirrel friends here.
now, don't get me wrong. i'm not saying that i want to go back to live with the squirrels, because i do not like sleeping outside. i hate eating fruit seeds. one of those suckers bit me last year-- and if i see him, i'm gonna open up a can o' whoopass on him. but i do miss the giant fat aquirrel that must have been 10 years old. i miss all the babies that would make chitter-squeak noises. i miss the one that would race along the top of the wall while i ran on the ground-- back and forth for hours.
i miss you all.
in your honor, i looked up my squirrel name. it is...
Chief Drunkenpaws
my person's quirrel name is...
President McBush
both are oddly appropriate.
