Squirrel

“That stupid squirrel is still out there!” I think to myself, staring at the dumb little thing, just sitting on a stump next to the wood chopping axe. I almost want to go smash it with the axe. I’ve really started to consider it.

A few hours ago, it tapped on the window, scaring me so bad that I spilled my wine. I think I’ll get the deposit back on the cabin, I was able to clean up well enough, but when I finally crept up to the window, there was that little red squirrel. Just staring at me.

I am trying to ignore it, but every so often I catch it moving out of the corner of my eye and go stare at it again. There is a backyard light, which seems to be a spotlight for anyone chopping wood at night, so it is very easy to see that furry little monster. Staring back.

Shouldn’t it be hibernating by now? Do squirrels hibernate? I’m pretty sure they do.

“Go hibernate!” I yell at it.

With the pandemic still raging, I didn’t want to risk going home for winter break, but I really didn’t want to spend it in my dorm room either. I’ve had to spend enough time in lockdown with my roommate, who is great and all, but she snores and breaths too loudly. So, my parents rented me this nice cabin in the woods, with easy social distancing, and a well-stocked pantry of food and wine as part of an optional service offered with the rental.

It was supposed to be relaxing.

And it would be relaxing except for that stupid squirrel.

How is it even still out there? It might not have snowed yet, but it is freezing cold tonight.

I start to wonder if it’s dead. Maybe it was there before I even got here and it is just frozen to the stump?

No, I do keep seeing it move when I’m not looking, I’m sure of that. The dumb thing is just taunting me. It’s a tiny little psychopath trying to ruin my week.

I go back to reading my book, or trying to, and even start to consider giving up the nice fireplace to go read in bed, just to escape the beady stare of my tiny stalker. Entirely unable to focus, I decide I’m just going to go smash it with the axe.

Well, I guess not smash it. I’ll try to chase it away, or maybe it’s really in trouble and I can get it in a warm box with leaves for the night.

I pull on my boots, and coat, and gloves, but I can’t find a box.

I decide a reusable shopping bag will work, figuring that if it’s docile enough to push into the bag I can bring it inside to let it warm up before putting it back out for the night.

Oooh, maybe it’ll grant me a wish, I think, sarcastically, as I trudge out the door and head around back towards the stump.

“Of course.” I say, with feigned exasperation and genuine relief, “You’re gone.”

When I get back around to the porch, however, guess what’s sitting between me and the door? Yup, that stupid little red squirrel!

“This is insane!” I say, pointing my flashlight at it, wavering between amused and alarmed. Desperately trying to cling to amused. “What do you want from me, huh?” That makes me laugh, I’ve maybe had too much wine.

I climb up the stairs, moving slowly, each board creaking loudly in protest. My light and eyes are laser-focused on the cute furry mass, which doesn’t seem to budge.

“Are you okay little guy?” I ask it, worried it’ll suddenly go from frozen shock to frantic scrambling and leap at my face as I approach, “Do you need somewhere warm to sleep for the night?”

Once I’m closer than I’d expected to get, I realize that it is really motionless.

I slowly reach for it, cringing inwardly, concentrating on each tiny movement as I coordinate my muscles to move my hand closer and closer, still waiting for it to jump at my face. Instead, I tap it and it falls over like a frozen statue.

Now visible on the bottom of the squirrel, I read, “Bob’s Taxidermy” and as I hear a board to my right me creak, under some shifting weight in the shadow, I have just enough time to think, ”Oh. The axe was gone too.”