There goes one shrewd varmint

Contrary to all extant meteorological indications, spring indeed approaches. Squirrels have been sighted, frolicking with all that trademark bouncy exuberance that keeps them forever at the bottom of the food chain.

I generally disregard these creatures — nothing but fur over fatty bones — but not so the Big Rodent, who finds them fascinating and maddening. They keep to the relative safety of the fences and trees, which exasperates him to no end. He does manage to put on quite a song and dance for them, though, and I think they secretly enjoy finding new ways to torment him. Basically they're just a bunch of spry buffoons.

Except for one. I have noted the presence of a rather canny bastard out there who seems clever beyond his species. When the Big Rodent is out sniffing around the back yard, this wily one carefully takes up position on the far corner of the fence, and remains completely still. Sometimes the Rodent catches his scent and scans the fence for him, but never can seem to pick him out.

This little gray commando sits there patiently, coiled and ready, and waits for the Big Rodent to assume his feculent arch — the instant the hound's full attention is directed aft, this furball of fire makes his break. He sprints across the fence fast and low... like a real professional.

Usually the Rodent doesn't even notice (that, after all, is the whole point). But every so often, he catches a glimpse of a sudden gray flash zipping along the ivy, and let me tell you, that presents the poor hound with one hell of a conundrum. Unable to interrupt the process occupying his rear quarter, the best he can do is bug his eyes, whimper in panic, and try to hurry things along.

Talk about getting caught with your pants down.

I'm sure this crafty squirrel is a minor legend among his own. It's no big feat to outfox the Rodent, but you have to take these things in context. His name is probably hailed far and wide among the peanut gallery.

Perhaps I will eat him, after all.