Saturday, September 4, 2010

Dear dog the teenage squirrels!

Dear reader let us turn the page. Enough with the raving. Summer we now leave behind. On to autumn with  a new roof,  some rain, a lot of leaves to rake, soup and bread, and the perennial signal that winter is imminent- the crazed teenage squirrel, fresh from the drey, filled with bravado and an urgency to do all the teenage squirrel related activities possible directly under my truck tires. The streets of Portland are a mosh pit for headbanging juvenile sciuridae.

Dang little friend! Slow down and accept your amatuer status. I careen all over the road trying to avoid you as first you hop directly in front of me, then freeze, then skeedaddle back the way you came only to zip back at me with a hearty bonzai and whoa. I have managed to avoid you so far but really, calm the hell down and read a book or talk to your mama about what it means to be a grown squirrel. Cause you are gonna wreck yourself if you don't checkit ok? Really.

Aside from suicidal tendencies, I adore autumn.