By golly, Buster is becoming a gardener. He probably doesn’t know it yet, but that’s what he’s learning to do by watching me. Ever since he found his way home after his lengthy Lake Gaston Foggy South Shoreline Cruise, I’ve begun removing every near-ripe tomato from my tomato vines before he has had a chance to play his silly, vindictive games. Now he has resorted to grabbing the green ones and — instead of eating each one half-way and leaving the carcasses where I’ll find them — he is carrying them off the patio and hiding them in my flower beds! I know this because I am finding tomato tops neatly packed in-between my hostas and ferns with just a wee cap of green tomato stem sticking out.
I’d like to think that Buster is just burying them like acorns for a winter harvest, in which case Buster is too stupid to realize they will rot in the ground before he has a chance to eat them, but — deep down in those dark seedy places where thoughts like table scraps decompose — I know better than that. What Buster is really doing is PLANTING his own crop of tomato seeds for next year just so he won’t have to deal with terrible me.
Which is fine, because next summer I’m going to steal all of HIS red tomatoes, take one bite out of each and every one, and leave them grinning face-up in the sunshine just like he’s been doing to mine this summer. Oh, what a tangled woof I weave!
On the other hand, perhaps I should just let sleeping squirrels lie.
Tim, if Buster has a mate, I hope he does not have the same sadness in his heart as that of my resident squirrel (haven’t named him yet).
My “bushy tail” and his mate have scampered about my yard and kept me amused with their games and chattering, and eaten my half matured pecans (I’ve never harvested one!).
Coming home the other day, I noticed a lifeless squirrel in the street. My heart sank. As many times as I cursed those squirrels at times, they had kept me laughing just as often. Her mate (I’m assigning genders here) was hopelessly sitting in the yard near the street. I watched as he later went over to the body, sniffed gently and stayed a while, then scampered back up a tree when a car passed.
He stayed like that all the rest of the day, just watching as if expecting her to jump up and come play with him…..or maybe just mourning. He would sit in one tree, with eyes turned toward her, then jump down and run to the edge of the street, then back and forth from one tree to another — but always with eyes turned toward her.
He didn’t leave, and as night fell, heavy rains came, and I’m assuming that he found shelter somewhere else. At any rate, the next morning the yard and street were clear.
I’ll miss the pair, but I hope he soon finds another mate to scamper around with.
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You crazy idiot.. I hope Buster potty’s on your deck.. lol
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Maybe you should try sprinkling some cayenne pepper on those tomatoes! Wonder what Buster would do then?
I feel for you as I had my own Buster, aka Sammy Squirrel, but instead of forging OUTSIDE, my Sammy got in the house! I was home alone with a squirrel and trying to get him outside – not a pretty sight seeing an old lady trying to get a FAST squirrel to leave my house. Sammy wrote a letter to my grandchildren with his escapades and they laughed for years!
Good luck and keep your doors closed and small opennings in your house blocked.
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This is from wikipedia. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser indeed. I tried to find more info but my skills are stunted. Made me smile though. 😉
The Adventures of Tim the Squirrel out West
The Adventures of Tim the Squirrel out West (French: Les aventures de “Tim” l’écureuil au Far-West) is a promotional series created in late 1931. Two pages were published each week from September 17, 1931 to December 31, 1931 in the free Thursday newspaper available at the Brussels department store L’Innovation.[3] The story involves Tim, his fiancée Millie, and also their aged uncle Pad; this serial was also the first draft of what would become The Adventures of Tom and Millie in 1933, and then Popol out West a year later.[4] The 32 pages[5] of this adventure were not written in the same format Hergé commonly used; instead they were written with the text beneath the illustrations, a format he had employed previously with Totor and would later use with Dropsy.
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