Our house isn't big. It's a 1950-something brick ranch--three bedrooms--small by today's standards--and a bath and a half. It's fine for two semi-retired people. Thing is, we're two semi-retired people, a very nice cat some chickens and a squirrel.
The cat owns the place and is a fine landlord. The chickens have their own condominium out back and even if there ARE some dicey relationships between the roosters, the neighbors and each other, they're solved by keeping the roosters inside at night so there's no crowing issues in the morning and a strictly monitored schedule of who's turn it is to walk about with the girls. Loser stays in the crate until his turn the next day.
Then there's Kibbles--who is no longer a micro squirrel, sleeping most of the time and waking to snuggle and break hearts. She's a squirrel--a full figured specimen of female squirreldom--inquisitive, funny, achingly cute, opinionated, fast, playful, messy and destructive as they come. She has left her mark on windowsills, furniture and my hands. She has also left nuts all over the house--under newspapers, inside bags, tucked away in fabric and blankets, pillows and drawers, buried in every pot of dirt that once held a healthy house plant and in the corners of most windows. There's not a shelf in the tiny room that WAS my sewing room, until Kibbles took it over, that doesn't have nuts behind the books. There's nuts under the Murphy bed, on top of computer equipment, tucked into the shelves of the closet or even a small pink mitten belonging to one of the children at nursery school.
I guess if you gotta be nuts about something, it may as well be a little critter who gives you plenty of nuts in return. Thanks Kibbs!
Kibbles is on You Tube now!
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