Picture him black, not gray.
Picture him in the feeder eating seeds I’d left for the birds.
Picture me saying, “Crap, I’m out of snowballs. I’ve got one chance to hit him with my hat.”
(At this point, there are those who would say, "He's just a fuzzy little squirrel. He needs to have food too. Leave him alone." To them I say... "Ever tasted Brunswick Stew?").
Picture me flying through the back door, hat in hand, and watching the little beggar (I didn’t say beggar at the time) climb upside down, hand over hand, along the clothesline toward the fence, as if he’s done the trick many times.
Picture me missing him with my hat by a country mile.
***
Squirrel - 1; Gord - no score.
I ask you. Clever little beggars, aren’t they?
Please click here to read a recent I Ask You that still needs an answer.
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