Positive Squirrel Experiences

On Father’s day, we were sitting around the table sharing stories, when we got on the subject of animals.  I told a story about a friend of mine who couldn’t figure out why the almonds she kept in a small bowl on the coffee table kept ending up on the floor.  One day, she discovered the answer when she saw a squirrel coming through the sliding glass door that she had left opened, and helping himself to her almonds.  Apparently word got out that a) my friend had almonds on her coffee table and b) that she often left the sliding glass door opened, because she now has a whole host of squirrels who come by her house for a snack. 

My dad said, “That reminds me of another squirrel story” and he proceeded to tell us about the day he found a baby squirrel in the yard. He was a black squirrel, which are pretty uncommon in our old neighborhood.  Thinking he was dead, he put on a pair of gloves and when he went to pick him up, he realized the squirrel was still alive, although just barely.  My dad told us about how he gave water to the little guy, by using a dropper and how he continued to do so all day long.  My jaw was hanging open, as I listened to my former Naval Academy “I-don’t-do-feelings” dad talk about how he doted on this little squirrel.  I always thought I got my compassion for animals from my mom.  After all, she was the one who took care of stray cats, not just feeding them but knitting them blankets to go in the beds she would make for them in the yard.  I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.

My dad continued to tell us the story . . . After nursing the squirrel all day, he put him up on the top of the fence, hoping that it would be easier for his family to find him up there.  When he went out a little while later to check on him, he was gone.  My dad didn’t know if his family had come to find him, if he was well enough to walk away on his own or if he had fallen off the fence and landed in the neighbors yard on the other side.  He said he thought about it quite a few times and wondered what ever happened to the little black squirrel . . . and then one day, almost a year later, my dad was in the yard and a black squirrel came hopping down the fence, stopped right in front of my dad and stared at him for a while . . . and then continued on his way.  My dad said he suspected it was the same squirrel stopping by to let him know he had made it. 

I couldn’t think of anything else to say besides “Wow.”  It was “wow” on so many levels. My dad didn’t believe I could communicate with animals when I was a little girl and quite honestly, I don’t think he believes I can do it now, but he was pretty sure he got a “message” himself from the black squirrel, who wanted him to know he was OK.  Maybe he isn’t as closed off to what I do as he likes to make me think.  It was also a sweet realization for me that my compassion for animals didn’t just come from my mom, I got it from both of my parents.