Squirrels own my life. I am late to class because I have to dodge squirrels. I frequently lose my voice because I scream every time I see the devilish little creature. I take the long way to class to avoid the squirrel population that likes to hang out on my path. How did I get to this point where I have to step into a battle zone every time I walk outside? I was attacked 12 years ago by the so-called cute squirrel that got bored looking for nuts, and started a new mission of lunging at humans.
I find it amazing that when I need to walk anywhere on campus, a squirrel decides to plop in front on me like it knows that I love surprises and drinks spilled all over my shirt. I also find it interesting that every time I throw my trash in a garage bin, a squirrel pops out like it is willin`g to take my trash with the utmost pleasure and service. The only service that the squirrel is doing me is making me look ridiculous when people see me screaming at a trashcan. I quickly look up and try and play it off wishing I had a friend to laugh and joke with covering the fact that I am afraid of an animal that is bigger than a shoe.
After I have a squirrel encounter, I just imagine squirrels coming together and talking about A, how they terrified me today, and B, how they can top the days events. I like to think that one day I will have a plan for the devils. Maybe something that involves my best Pele kick.
