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This is going to be a quick post because we have fresh snow. No time to waste. There are no paw prints yet on our driveway.
But we must alert The Squirrel Patrol to a new danger. The Squirrel Patrol is made up of:
Rusty – So dedicated to the art that his blog is named Chasing Squirrels with Rusty
Maverick – Always good to have a swashbuckling pirate on your side.
Moxie and Izzy – Corgis are the powerful tunnelers and a key part of the squirrel assault
Ozzie – Rapidly learning the ways of the Siberian, including squirrel chasing.
So this our pathetically obvious attempt to be added to the patrol. Our problem is that we live at an altitude where normal squirrels do not live. Really. None. But we do have flying squirrels. Squirrels with wings. Well, sort of. More squirrels with gliders. They can’t flap but they can float. And that makes catching them totally difficult.
So, anyway, we only get to see normal squirrels when we are out on our adventures and then the humans always have those pesky leashes on us. Sigh. But that brings us to our story.
We were at a flea market yesterday. Not sure why, we don’t want no stinking fleas. But flea markets do seem to attract the most interesting people. We were patiently sitting in our jeep looking all cute and fluffy and watching people come over to us and say how cute and fluffy we are.
A gentleman walked up wearing overalls and he had a fascinating long flowing beard as in the fashion among some men here in Appalachia. We found him to be very interesting to watch and sniff. And then we discovered a horrifying secret. He had a pet. In his overall pocket. Yes – brace yourself – the horror, the horror – a pet squirrel. Poking its little head out and watching the action.
We were shocked, we tell you. And we have suddenly decided we want to go back to that flea market. Maybe they actually sell pet squirrels there. Now THAT we could all get into.
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