So, This is Progress

Gentleman Caller squirrel and his two unnamed friends spent most of the morning playing on the limbs and branches from Squirrel's cage. They had a breakfast of her sunflower seeds. They buried some of her pecans in the yard.  So, this is progress.

If she had not lost over half of her tail when she was a baby, Squirrel could have enjoyed the wild life, too. But she wouldn't have lived to be nine years old (just one or two) even if she could have jumped from limb to limb. Disabled, she would not have made it in the woodlands.

Belle spent some of her afternoon on the glider footstool looking into an empty cage. She knows what it means - as relating to food - when I tell her "Gone, all gone," and "Sorry, no more," holding out my hands to her, empty and wide open.

"Gone," I said. "Squirrel is gone. Sorry. No more."

The last picture of Squirrel. 

Finally, her attention was taken by the Cardinal Couple who were having some kind of a spat (!) in the bush on the corner of the porch. Then Belle saw the yard squirrels coming out for their supper. She looked at me with surprise. I believe she thinks Squirrel has gone outside to live. She curled up on the stool and was soon snoring. So, this is progress.

I don't know why I keep thinking of Squirrel in a panic, as if I am neglecting her, have forgotten to feed her, didn't give her water. It's hard to give her up. She was the last gift Wayne gave me. Except for Corey, Tom, and Jack, she is/was my final tie to him.

When I know Wayne wouldn't want me to cry, I can usually "Buck up Old Girl." But not today. I'm living that older loss over and over. "Don't be afraid." "Take care of Corey." "Smile for me." "I love you." You call this progress?

TOMORROW. ANOTHER DAY

On the first mild and sunny day in two weeks, I got out on the porch and began to think about it.

I own a squirrel cage made of cedar with a corrugated metal A-line roof (6' long, 7' tall,  24" deep) and two doors (on the sides) that you can walk right into. Chicken wire floor and walls, shelves that Squirrel never used and that we took out in lieu of tree branches (six or seven of them). I began moving it around this morning. Cleaning. Removing limbs and branches.

The animal rescues that I offered Squirrel's house to don't want it if they have to take it apart and roll it out, load it themselves, drive it off, then reassemble it.

So, I've been cooking up a plan. They don't know what they've missed. 

My porch has been a zoo and little else since we first moved here. One of the three problems I have had with living in this house was that the screened area was so tiny that I had room for the squirrel, her house, and not much else. LORD I LOVED HAVING HER. 

Then, second problem, there is the cat. She will go to any length to eat a plant. It helps her throw up hairballs if she eats the right ones. Therefore, the porch had a new flower or two every summer - nothing pretty or permanent. If Belle didn't eat it, squirrel dug it up to hide a nut inside the pot or to eat a dirt or root ball. Yep. We were a zoo. Zoos are not beautiful except for the animals they keep. ZOOS ALSO SMELL FUNNY.

So. First, a zoo-like porch, second, bare of plant life, and third, a garage that doesn't go all the way to the back patio. Who builds these houses? For seven years, I've carted shop vacs through the living room and gardening tools around the house. Once, I looked into building a tool shed out back to match the house, BUT THERE ARE NEIGHBORHOOD RULES.

I've thought it out. Moved the animal house to the sunny side (Sq. hated it there - too hot- couldn't see into the kitchen) of the porch. Next, I'll put in a little flooring of turf-like inside-outside carpeting. Put the shelves back up. Maybe plant-hangers. PROTECT THE CAT FROM HERSELF AND STILL HAVE PLANTS ON THE PORCH.

I'll be able to store some tools and the little wagon. It could look cute. Even beautiful. And so useful. I've seen repurposed objects that turn out gorgeous, pleasant, quaint. I told Kitty. We're going to do it!!! I'll begin with measuring for a strip of flooring first thing in the morning. A million ideas are running through my head. TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY.

AFTERTHOUGHT: Every plant in these pictures was either dug up by Squirrel or eaten by Belle and moved outside where it was too hot. That was the year I decided not to have ferns in my zoo.