Squirrels....
To some they're simply pesky rodents. To me, they're cute little critters. I always saw them dead on the road. Some just laying there waiting for death to end their suffering, some squashed, and some without heads, courtesy of the local buzzard.
When I was a little girl I loved to watch them play. I loved how high they could climb trees. I used to try and a couple times got too high up, leaving my mom in a panic.
Fast forward to the age of eight my family's cats killed them all the time. I used to give them funerals. I felt sorry for the little boogers. My cat Sylvester, always brought a dead squirrel to our back door. He thought he was providing our food, I guess. It was a noble gesture, but I got out the shovel and made crosses out of twigs.
My dad put a stop to my squirrel funerals because I was digging up the flower beds. That was the end of that.
Several years later into adulthood I was driving in afternoon traffic and I'm not kidding, I saw a barely alive injured squirrel dragging his crushed legs across the road. With no time to react, I ran over the poor creature, and later that night I told a friend of mine that I felt awful for what I had done. So if it's safe in the boonies where I live, I will brake for them. Like I said, I love the little boogers.
But even to this day, I still think of that.
You see: Squirrels have feelings too.
© Suzanne M Hall