Squirrels…                       I hate ‘em.

There’s something about January 21 that pisses me off; it is National Squirrel Day.  How in the world did this, putting it mildly, annoying, condescending, big-ugly paws rodent get its own day?  Let’s just say I have issues with these animals.

My hatred for the speedy, furry rodents began when they did not willingly jump into my mouth as nature intended.  They stood their ground and gawked at me showing off those creepy big front paws all the way until my whiskers were in reach of theirs then like a bolt of electric, furry energy disappeared only to reappear 10 feet above my twitching ears.  They managed to push out this ugly little bark as if I had no right for being.

Who wouldn’t hate such an animal!?  Those yellow, oversized nut-chompers snapping at you…  That fluffy tale flicking at you as if it were telling acid-lined sarcastic jokes fully at your expense to the other little beings of their like kind…  They all laugh as though your ears were the butt of some story…

My owners only exasperate the situation by encouraging my rage-filled chases at trees as soon as the front door is pushed by an inch.  With the shock and explosiveness of an unseen Bertha gun mere feet behind, I bolt for any potential target as though flames tickled my neither regions.  Of course, owners whispering “Katy,  Squirrel.”

My biggest thrill and tease of life is to actively cruise patrol in the owners Jeep SUV for the ridiculous life forms.  I stand amongst them on the console between the front seats with my head pressing against the windshield while eyes in constant motion searching with radar-like awareness for one of the foolish rodents to show its face.  Yeah, it’s probably not too safe but you see I must get my squirrel on or I will go nuts; besides they don’t drive too fast and they really don’t have a choice when it comes to my motorized squirrel hunting escapades.

When I do locate the offensive labors of my attentions (being a dog, those attentions don’t last too long), I begin to quiver.  My hind hunches shimmy with the anticipation of the kill, I can just feel the crunch but then the sadist owners just laugh and drive past while I rush over their complaining offspring to the back of the Jeep staring down my nemesis.  It just gazes towards me with its dark matter eyes then with just the little clicking squeak of registration bounds away.

Squirrels… I hate ‘em.  I got no use for them.  Well like all dogs, my attention drifts elsewhere as does this blog…