I am a two-year-old squirrel and have lived in the village of Goshen all my life. I reside next to a retired English professor. I enjoy finding, eating and hiding nuts, raiding bird feeders and dodging cars. I guess you might say I live a typical squirrel’s life. Although recently my life was interrupted.
Last week, I had an encounter with the professor. He had apparently returned from a shopping trip when he invited me into his garage and then into his kitchen. I assumed it was an invitation because he left the kitchen door ajar and then took a nap like he does every day at 1 p.m. All went well for several hours.
At about 4 p.m., the professor was working at the computer in the kitchen when he suddenly went through the hall, opened the door to the second bedroom, looked in the closet, walked back toward the kitchen and glanced into the living room. I was looking directly at him. He seemed to be thinking, “Who are you?” I quickly realized he may not have invited me into his house after all! Then he ran at me with a broom so I ran into the second bedroom through the door he had left open!
Then, he got angry, ran into the second bedroom and violently waved the broom and threw a dustpan at me. Why was he throwing things at a guest in his house? This confirmed that my assumption was wrong. I was not a guest. I managed to evade him and get back to the kitchen — my plan was working.
My next step was to race around the kitchen, including jumping up on the counter, across the stove top, and up to the top of the refrigerator. Then I jumped down and ran between his legs!
Surprisingly, he jumped straight up into the air, and went into a rolling fall, a worthy squirrel-like move, I might add. I actually remember him getting up with a smirk on his face. I went back into the main part of the house through a door he had left open. Alas, I was back to square one.
He then went about closing doors and trapping me in the living room. Desperate, I tried leaving through a window but it was closed. Now, I was getting angry so I knocked over several potted plants, scampered across the room and tried to climb into the fireplace, but a screen stopped me. Then he waved that ridiculous broom (minus the dustpan) at me so I ran through to the sunporch and straight out an open door. Success!
My squirrel’s life had returned but with a new appreciation and wariness towards my retired neighbor.
The Squirrel (AKA John Kinney)
Goshen