I have a good view of the bird feeder from our
breakfast nook. A professional, rather
costly, anti-
squirrel bird feeder. I put a lot of
faith in that feeder. Bird seed is expensive. There he sits, eating that
expensive bird seed. Bird seed. The company guarantees my
feeder against such intrusions. Obviously
they did not take into account
flying squirrels. He climbs up the trunk of a pine tree about 15 feet away,
to the height of about 30 ft. and
leaps. I wish I had that kind of faith. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t
overthink it. He jumps. He hits the
feeder at about ten miles per hour. Seed goes airborne in every
direction, falling to the ground for
later consumption by him and his friends. He hangs on. It is a feat
worthy of the circus. I could put
something sharp there, but I can’t bring myself to such barbaric
methods. Although I think about it. My dog hates squirrels. Maybe he can read my
mind. He barks
behind the window. The squirrel
panics. A ten feet jump to the ground, and he’s gone. As for as the dog
can tell, he just vanishes. Some people say a squirrel is akin to a rat. I
don’t know, but I’ve never seen a
rat on my feeder. The dog also
doesn’t like armadillos. We see them less often. An armadillo is a weird
creature. One of God’s creations
that you have to wonder about. At least he can’t climb the bird feeder.
He uproots the flowers, looking for
grubs. He needs to eat, but I wish he would go elsewhere for his
culinary pursuits. Like to the
neighbors. The dog does his usual thing. He barks. The armadillo scurries off
into the woods, determined to return
later. I’m sure. The dog likes deer. He’ll stand in the window and
silently watch them approach. They
are also looking for a free handout. He tilts his head, as though he’s
trying to read their minds. I think
it is their freedom that he is enamored with. He is always on a leash.
When he breaks free, he won’t
immediately come back. He tastes that freedom. He wants to bask in it.
He rolls in the grass. Runs around
crazily. No restraints. No tug at the neck. He runs like those deer run.
Fast. Free. Unrestrained. When he
tastes that freedom, he prefers it. I don’t blame him. So do I. Another
squirrel on the feeder. I’m going to
call the company. This is out of hand.
Dogs are good for the soul. Dogs
know a whole lot more about what’s going on than we give them credit
for. Dogs know when you’re happy.
When you’re sad. When you are lonely. When you are so low you
can look the dog straight in his
eyes. There he’ll be, staring at you. Wondering what’s wrong. How best
he can cheer you up. Can he lick
you? Sit up like a poodle. Scoot his butt on the couch and sit there, next
to you, watching television. He
prefers the dog channel, which costs extra. Look with you out the
window, trying to help you forget
about yourself. Your pains. Your shortcomings. You can talk to a dog.
He never talks back, although he
might look at you funny. I like my dog. He never complains, even if I
feed him late. If I make him hold it
a little too long before a relieving walk. I might forget to change his
water for several days. Not a word
out of him. He smells everything outside, especially after a rain. I
don’t know why. Squirrels,
armadillos, deer, possum, raccoons, coyotes, fox, other dogs. He sometimes
forgets why we are outside. He gets
a little slow to do his business. He’s particular about a spot. A
certain spot. Who knows what he’s
thinking. He is a good watchdog. He barks whenever anyone comes
to the house. Some people see that
as undesirable. I see it as cheaper than an alarm system. I think.
Anyway, he’s a good dog. Of all
creation, you can hardly beat a dog. I think this one is divine, mainly
because we think alike. We both hate
those pesky squirrels. Although probably for different reasons.
