Squirrel gave Belle her famous side-wise look and, holding on desperately to the treat, ran into her house and didn't stop until she was sitting on the top branch looking down at us. Belle won't go in there, even for a cookie.
Munch. Munch. Munch. Nibble, nibble, nibble. Cat, sulking. Me, thinking that this couldn't be that good for her. Yet, I told myself, if a wild squirrel found an Oreo in the grass, he or she would eat it. No harm done, really. She had found the least gooey half. Jack or Tom had enjoyed the other.
Squirrel finally got all the goody off the cookie and hid the rest. A huge drink of water later, she was off sorting through a bag of fresh, just-opened bedding. She had torn down the first winter nest after just one night of being way too warm. This is Florida, after all.
Drink, drink, drink. Build, build, build. Soon she was back in the "secret place" pulling out the Oreo wafer. This time, she nibbled, savoring, and hid the rest - that little piece in the picture that she couldn't quite finish.
Drink, drink, drink. Build, build, build. Drag out the tiny piece remaining of the cookie. Polish it off in one gulp.Smile at Belle.
Drink, drink, drink. No building nests. Not this time.
Swing from the string (stolen from you-know- who) on which dangles the likewise comshawed catnip mouse.
Jump over the cloth baby blocks one by one. Slide down the ferret tower.
Jump on the mound of fresh straw and roll around. Attack a leftover lettuce leaf from the breakfast dish. Dive into the bathwater bowl.
Belle has moved in closer, a better seat. I am shaking my head, laughing out loud. Just look at her, Belle. We have a squirrel on a sugar high!
