I miss the squirrels we had at the old homestead. No, that’s not hyperbole. Until two years ago the six of us lived in a 900 sf home my wife’s grandmother homesteaded for. But that’s beside the point. We had squirrels there. They chittered, ran about, tossed apples down at my girls when they tried to inhabit the hammock.
For those of you not from Utah, you might be wondering why this is such a big deal. If you’re from the East you might be thinking I’m nuts. But out West trees are few and far between, which means so are the squirrels. So we loved our squirrels, but then they got into our neighbor’s fifth wheel and he promptly killed them all.
But here, for your pleasure, are squirrels using their god-given intelligence to do what they were bred to do–steal and eat.
Of course, they are squirrels. Not quite geniuses yet.
One of my stories either needs a squirrel who steals candy bars or a character who is constantly setting up obstacle courses for the varmits.