Oh, I am so happy because it is summer. The snow is long gone, icicles that hang like daggers of doom from eaves troughs, are melted and it is time….to prepare because just like in Game of Thrones….Winter is Coming, warning us to be constantly vigilant, warehousing food for the winter for the family.
I consider myself a one-of-a-kind strategist with a plan, because I have every intention to live for the twenty-five years allotted squirrels in search engines.. as long as my enemies or road kill does not shorten my lifespan…not that Momma is much help…let me tell you what she did to me and my fine family of outstanding squirrels from a long line of impeccable heritage.
Last summer, when we were satisfied with our living conditions, living off the land, plump on sweet red cherries, I noticed (because on top of those lofty century old trees, I see everything that moves in this neighbourhood), I saw Momma talking with, oh, no contractors, who shinnied up ladders to her roof (also know as my ancestors’ roof since 1867 – but whose counting?), walked all over, came down with a clip board, handed her a piece of paper that made Momma gasp when she read it, then leave.
080.JPGBy binks
Now, silly Mr. Grey Squirrel that I am, I predicted Momma was too cheap to go through with getting a new roof….but I was wrong…because one day, a huge truck came, packed with shingles, all manners of tools and hardware on its flat-bed, as well as in keeping with today’s environmental green requirements, a bin for the disposal of the old.
I knew the signs. I gathered my family and told them we were moving to the park for a day or two because the noise was going to be deafening. Hammer, hammer, hammer then….more hammer, hammer, hammer. And you know how these things goes…it brings out the gawkers…passerbyers who Momma never saw before, stopped to chat. They needed to know the who, what, when, where and how, right now and had to stop the contractors immediately in order to gain information to be filed and forgotten under, ‘We should get that done, too.’
Still, it was entertaining to watch a team of four tight rope walkers, who made Cirque de Soleil look like child’s play. A Foreman down below shouted orders, keeping the ball rolling and the hammers flying. It was actually amazing how quickly and succinctly, we were barred from the attic and the shedroom of our very own McMansion that still had the furniture we had dragged in place with Martha Stewart perfection.
There are some things Momma can not control. To paraphrase the Night-Watchman motto (Game of Thrones), ‘We are the Squatter Squirrels. We are the Watchers of our Century old McMansions, stolen by competing claimants. We are the Sustainers of Life to our families….and we pledge our honor to the watch, for now and forever…..’
Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Momma. Ah, you don’t smoke? Pity, that!
