Undivided Attention

It has been a long time since we have seen a squirrel in The Run. Ever since the arrival of Jeffrey's feral cat last Spring, their presence has dwindled and finally, by the mid-summer, they had vanished entirely. Before the arrival of the cat––who is now known as "Mama Kitty" for the litter of kittens she had near the hot tub heating unit last February during our coldest time of the year––Jeffrey adored the squirrels, left feeders out for them, and spent his mornings in his window watching Duncan chase them up the trees, up his screen and occasionally up me. They were the delight of our mornings and afternoon walks but Jeffrey could not turn his back on the cat. He took pity on the poor thing and slowly coaxed her into his apartment, even finding homes for each of her seven kittens. Mama Kitty, happy and healthy, stuck around but, sadly, our squirrels did not.

Now that the weather has turned cold and Mama Kitty has been confined indoors for most of the day, the squirrels have begun to return, if only for brief visits. When Duncan spotted one on our walk this morning there was little I could do to turn his attention away. He chased it out from under the shrubs and up an elm where he sat for nearly twenty minutes, a smile on his face, his ears raised, his attention focused entirely upon a single fat squirrel who looked down on me with exasperation. If it's not the cat, it's a dog. What's a rodent to do?

I finally had to put Duncan's leash back on him and drag him, snorting and huffing, away so we could resume our walk and I could finally head off to work. I'm not sure what happened to the squirrel but I know he won't be caught by surprise again.