Thursday, November 19, 2009

Little @$$holes

It was a lazy fall afternoon, back in our previous life, and I was comfortably stretched out on the couch, considering a little cat nap, while the neighborhood kids scampered about the manicured lawns of our fancy suburban subdivision. The living room where I reclined looked out onto a sizable back deck where Mary had created a beautiful setting, replete with potted plants of all shapes, sizes, and vibrant colors. As I began to drift off to sleep in this peaceful setting, all hell broke loose.

From the deck there came a crash and, almost immediately, my gentile, diminutive 4'11" wife came flying through the house with murder in her eyes. She blew through the living room and out the back door, waving her arms and screaming at the top of her lungs "Get out of there you little assholes!!!!" Fearing for their lives, a handful of squirrels, interrupted while hiding their winter meals in Mary's potted plants, scattered in all directions.

Excited by the commotion, our yorkshire terrier, Sammy, jumped into action to assist his mistress. He, too, flew out the back door and, not quite sure what was expected of him, covered his bases by spinning around in tight little circles and launching his ferocious barks in every possible direction, managing, of course, to knock a pot of his own over in the effort.

Startled by the wild woman shouting profanity, an eight pound spinning terror, crashing crockery and scattered squirrels, I fell off the couch and laughed till I cried. I was certain that the neighbor's kids were forever scarred and that their parents had final confirmation that the folks at address 125 were completely bonkers.

From that day forth, the squirrels we encounter have officially been dubbed the little assholes. And, we have moved from man's cushy subdivisional environment to theirs, here in the woods of Chatham County. Here there's no avoiding them and the occasional tipped terracotta elicits sighs rather than rage; thus is our new place in the scheme of things.

And I have a new appreciation for the initiative of these furry little guys. When they can't get what they want, they enlist the help of the local bigger assholes, as seen below, shaking bird seed to the ground for easy squirrel pickin's. How do you fight such a partnership?

And, in the end, I'll bet the little, and the bigger, assholes are quite sure that we humans are the biggest assholes of all. They're probably right.

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