I have always liked squirrels. My dad worked for a tree company when I was a kid, and before cutting down a tree he would rescue any babies nested there. That meant I got to raise baby squirrels until they were big enough to go off on their own. I thought I was doing a good thing.
Little did I know they would find me.
And eat my house.
Squishy was enjoying her afternoon snack as I was working on an order. I heard what sounded like Squishy scratching away at my newly upholstered dining room chairs. I turned to ask her what she was doing, and to my surprise she sat there staring at me with a bewildered look on her face.
“What’s that noise, mama?”
I hadn’t the slightest idea. Then I saw it. A bushy tail in my kitchen window.
The beaver-squirrels have been back a few times, but luckily the house is still standing.