george_bush tender square have i trained her, or has she trained me? she visits our porch at 7 am, climbs the banister, crosses to the ridge of the rocking swing, and balances there, peering into the living room window in search of my face. if she is impatient, she mounts the window ledge, affixes her claws to the screen and climbs, her body a star blocking out the light. “yes, george,” i assure her in these moments. “i see you.” i buy her bulk nuts online, she is so spoiled; mixed bags of almonds, walnuts, filberts. whenever she arrives, i meet her at the doorway, and crouch by the front path where i wait for her to saddle up next to me as i call her name. i offer my hand and she creeps toward me, tries to set her mouth around the shell; sometimes her tiny teeth make contact with my skin, but she never bites, just fixes her tiny paws along my palm to steady the nut. there are times she lets me graze my fingertips against the undersides of her arms as she does this, right before she scurries a foot away, looking up at me while she munches. last summer, i recused a sad-looking lawn ornament from a hidden spot in our daylily patch. it’s the image of a flattened turtle, and i placed it near the porch, a dish to be filled with offerings. george, and the two chipmunks, chip and dale, who live in our gutter spouts, know that this is their spot. they visit the turtle several times a day to see if i’ve left anything for them; sometimes, i surprise them with a little extra. 210912 ... tender square (not recused, rescued. gah.) 210912 ... tender square the chipmunks are extra aggressive these days. instead of two, there’s three, who shall heretofore be known as alvin, simon, and theodore. they flit and fritter on the porch while i’m writing. it’s constant, like junkies looking to score their next fix. any time i put nuts in the turtle shell for george, the chipmunks descend, shoveling three shells at a time into their mouths and taking off. george only gets one; by the time she finishes eating what she’s grabbed, the rest of the nuts are gone. it’s gotten so bad i’m having to throw them to her in yard to fetch, which she gratefully does. sorry my dude! 210917 ... tender square george had been keeping her distance from me for the past couple of weeks and it was bumming me out. i’d try to feed her from the back porch, crouched with my hand ready by the stairs, but she’d circle around the yard, stop to watch me as she undulated her magnificent tail, then disappear into the treetops. this morning, it’s humid enough to be out on the porch to write even though it’s damp. george popped by for a visit first thing, came right up to me when i offered her a walnut. it was the longest she’s ever let me pet her, my fingers lingered on the side of her body for several seconds before she moved away. i left more nuts in the turtle dish figuring the chipmunks would be out in full force, but they gobbled everything up before george had a chance to eat more. so, she saddled up to me on the porch. she’ll walk right up to the swing now and i’ll hand her nuts directly, away from the greedy chipmunks. after several of these visits, she stood out on the walkway, in the drizzle, gazing up at me with those brown eyes, her front paws crossed in a hopeful stance, wanting more. 211003 ... tender square kismet this morning. as i was completing forward bends in my yoga routine, i thought of george. upon taking an upright position, i turned my head toward the window, and there she was, waiting at the sill for me, a wee bit soggy from the rain. 211010 ... tender_square last night, i read on the chaise beneath a lamp as dusk darkened the neighborhood. george came up to window several times searching for me, climbing the screen repeatedly when i wouldn’t go outside to see her. i don’t know if the lighted window attracted her or what. i must’ve fed her two or three times before this. i took a video to document her antics, laughing at her acrobatics, and shared it with someone i knew would appreciate it. later, she tried chewing on the screen with her chomppers. “what are you doing you feral beast?!” i called to her through the glass, tapping the window to try and get her to skedaddle. she must’ve climbed the window sixteen goddamn times as i read. i was trying to ignore my problem child. she wouldn’t go away so quietly. finally, i thought she left. then i heard her hurling herself at the front door. she did it twice. when i opened it to see what all the commotion was about, she walked right up to the landing as though she was going to come strolling into the foyer. “what do you think you’re doing george?!” i said to her. i closed the door behind me and crouched on the porch holding my empty hands out. she kept circling; she’d approach my open hand, then walk away, then come toward me from a different direction. she was skittish as fuck. “did you ingest bath salts today?! what the hell is going on?!” eventually she tired, and scampered off to her tree. i went back to my book. 211016 ... tender_square when it got too cold to leave my potted plants outdoors in overnight freezes, i centered the porch glider with the window believing there was still a few days remaining to sit outside (there wasn’t). i didn’t realize that in doing so, i had inadvertently created more space between the porch banister and the swing’s arm, which meant that george could no longer bridge the gap to walk the window sill and let me know she’d arrived. last week, i relented and moved the swing and it’s tiny matching table into the shed for the season. i washed the cushion covers and stored them in the basement. the porch is deserted now, save the curling leaves that blow in from the south and gather in the corners. and i’m thinking that maybe i need to retrieve that tiny table for the winter because i know george can climb on top of it. and i’m thinking that if i set that table in front of the window, she’ll be close enough to reach the sill and let me know she’s still kickin’. i mean, shouldn’t she be getting *more* nuts from me this time of year? i know she’s prepared to weather the chill and all, but i worry about how unrelenting the ground can be as she digs for her earlier treasures; we could all use a little more love when winter blows its way through our bones, no? 211120 ... tender_square operation feed george (i nearly wrote gorge, which makes sense) is officially in full effect. we crossed paths as i was taking out the garbage yesterday and i was psyched to see her waiting for me on the walkway. she’s so fat and furry, all bulked up for winter; i kept calling her “bubi.” she ate from my hand. i think the table is too short for her to reach the window sill, but we’ll see. i moved the turtle dish to the tabletop (it was getting lost in the leaves) and george visited twice for nuts. the rain made her paws wet, and each time she hopped down from the table she left tiny stamps across the concrete porch of her cuteness. 211122 ... tender_square although i hadn’t spotted george, i left nuts out for her early knowing she’d be by at some point this morning. a couple hours later, i started hearing the loud jeers of blue jays nearby and with regularity. when i peeked out the porch window to see what the fuss was, a beautiful turquoise jay with striped feathers and a powder blue mohawk was perched on the table, surveying which peanut to peck with its beak. george doesn’t seem to mind sharing, she toddled into frame not long thereafter. 211123 ... tender_square this morning she was in my dream. i was in a house i didn’t recognize, a house with a great many windows, and the sun was pouring through them, everything was yellow. i had just mentioned closing the curtains and blinds to brea and michael because a hot day was expected, and then george came bouncing along several of the window panes to let me know she was there. “can you take care of her?” i asked michael. i was needing to get ready to go somewhere, but where i was heading was unclear. the scene switched and i was in a park, alone, when brea called to me from across the street and said our dad was in the hospital. and i crossed the fresh shorn grass, and i leapt down from the stone retaining wall that encircled the park to meet her on the corner where we entered the building, together. michael wasn’t with us; it was brea and my mom and i waiting while my dad was laid out on a hospital gurney, covered in thick a moving blanket and hazy eyed. just the other night, michael said to me that he was enjoying getting back into michigan football after years of swearing off the sport, because it made him feel connected to ann arbor again. “it’s important to build that back up in the years ahead,” he reasoned. i nodded in agreement, but thought to myself, “this is his home; it isn’t mine.” 220102 ... tender_square i saw george perched on the edge of the table, standing over the turtle stone i’d filled with nuts this morning. she cracked a peanut open with her jaw and munched slowly, savoring her breakfast while her right eye held my gaze through the window. in the corner of the porch, flittering through the low branches of the arbor vitae, i spotted black-capped chickadees and a tufted titmouse waiting for their chance to swoop in and peck a peanut. one of the chickadees gradually moved through the snow on the ground, hopping up onto the porch and stealthily moving below the table, hoping to sneak up on george from behind. but george, my girl, is more perceptive than that. she moved quickly from her comfortable perch stance into one where all four of her paws extended over the turtle and her body covered the peanuts. ain’t no birds going to scoop up her stash this morning. 220126 ... tender_square i haven’t been having much time to feed george before i leave for work in the mornings. besides, i don’t like miss seeing her eat as i stand at the window, looking on like a proud fur mama. before dinner, i left some nuts out for her in the turtle dish, called her name to see if she was skipping around in the milder weather. when i left for a walk a short while later, her food was untouched; i worried i would have to clean up what i’d put out before dark, to avoid feeding unwanted critters. but when i got back to the house 40 minutes later, i saw her from the street, perched over her stash and chewing away. “hi, george!” i slowly approached the porch; she scurried away, jumped from the table and squeezed herself between the railing to stand on the other side of it like she was in a jail cell while she continued to eat. “you’re so pretty,” i told her. “i’m so happy to see you!” the compliments couldn’t coax her out. 220216 ... tender_square i’m very inconsistent with my george feedings; sometimes i’ll remember to feed her before work, but often she’ll get nuts after i’ve gotten home for the day. as i loaded my bags in the backseat of the car this morning, i noticed george perched on the tree across from me. she was on the lip of a branch that had either been hacked or had fallen, and her tail was curled up and covering her head. the snow was beginning to fall and it was much colder than yesterday, nearly a 25-degree difference. i said hi to her and said that i would feed her when i got back. i got inside the car and watched her from the passenger window. she was looking at me. “i don’t know if i can wait to feed her.” michael said i had time if i wanted. i ran inside and grabbed the bag of mixed nuts and the bag of peanuts, shook their contents like maracas when i reached the stoop, singing her name. she didn’t move from her spot, but she noted my bag waving. she'd eat after we'd gone. after i locked the front door, and got back into to the front seat, i waved to her. she was still watching me. i rolled down the window as michael pulled out of the driveway. “have a good day, george! make good choices!” 220223 ... tender_square i turned away from chopping basil at the counter, deposited the stems into the trash. i_looked_out_the_window and saw george perched on a tree stump that separates my property from my neighbours. she had been waiting patiently for me to take notice of her, watching my back as i worked. i stepped closer to peer at her, waved, and she ran from her throne towards the back door, knowing i’d meet her there. she had already been fed this morning (i pulled the turtle shell onto the porch so she wouldn’t have to eat in the rain), but she knows i’m a sucker for her glorious bouncing beauty. i opened the door a crack and offered her an almond in my open palm. she wouldn’t come near, twirling around the porch posts and hopping up and down the steps like fred astaire. i even complimented her tail but she saw right through me. and so, i left her dinner on the porch: a mix of almonds, hazelnuts and peanuts. the assorted bag i rifled through bereft of walnuts, her favourite. later, i saw her bounding through the yard, giving chase to another squirrel that was trying to bogart her supper. 220323 ... tender_square i heard the screams of multiple blue jays while writing and when i stood at the window to investigate, saw two of them engaged in a wing war. and then i realized that they were trying to gang up on george, who was perched in the interdigital fold of the maple tree. she dashed to the base and waited for a minute or more, watching as i stood powerlessly at the window. the birds perched on the electrical wires above, biding time. “why are they doing this to you?” i asked aloud. i wanted to run out into the yard and chase those bully birds off, i wanted to signal george over into the safety of the house, i wanted to do something other than witness whatever was happening. i should’ve known george was drawing her breath for the inevitable race; she scurried up that bark-based superhighway like she was escaping the blast area of an explosive, not giving two squirrel shits whether those mohawked punks pursued her or not. 220401 ... tender_square i spotted her lying on the nub of a nearby tree, her tail covering her back like a weighted blanket. she saw me step out of the front door holding up the nut bags, making music of their shelled contents like maracas. she didn’t budge. i fished out a walnut and walked across the driveway toward the tree, and held it up to her as i said good morning. she ran up to a higher branch and wouldn’t come down. “okay, i’m going to leave this down here for you and put your breakfast out.” and i dropped the walnut into the soil by a nearby ladybug and walked away. crouched over the turtle, the bag of assorted nuts i was riffling through was inundated with brazils and pecans; there’s hardly any walnuts in the packages anymore. i just bought george bags containing only those, so that i am always able to treat her to her preferred nut. 220402 ... tender_square it dawned on me earlier today why george loves sitting on that tree nub: it gives her a clear view of when i exit the front door, my arms laden with bagged nuts. this morning, i thought that i had seen her from the kitchen window, frolicking in the backyard, and i walked with the sunrise at my back to see if i could coax her into following me out front. but she wasn’t anywhere i looked. then i noticed a ball of fluff on the nub. i approached the tree and looked up at her, her tail held close to her body shielding wind. “c’mon over,” i said. twenty some-odd steps later, i was crouched by the turtle, about to set out her breakfast. i looked back at the tree and she was gone. i waited to see george creep beneath the car (her favourite route for approaching) and soon she was beside me, and i was handing her a shelled walnut in my outstretched palm. she wraps her paws around the circumference and drags the orb in a fluid motion against my hand, her nails tickling my fingertips. i left her two more walnuts, along with all the other goodies, and remained a bodyguard for a few moments in the damp morning, watching the robins and grackles swoop and soar nearby, as they angled for an opening. when i returned home from work later in the day, i noticed from the street that there was something on the porch banister. it was george, lying prostrate, paws out, taking a siesta. i’ve caught her doing this a few times before, but it’s mostly in the summer when she’s in search of shade and rest. i took careful steps to the porch, holding my lunch bag, my handbag. “are you waiting for me? are you here to be fed again?” i stood a couple of feet from her and she watched me. “hold on, you goof.” i held up a finger. “i’ll be back in a minute.” i put down my bags, picked up her bags from the cupboard and when i opened the door, she was on the porch, standing on her hind legs, her little hands crossed giving me an inquisitive and expectant stare. we repeated our ritual from the morning; i offered her a walnut, and she took it from me like i gave her the world, her paws meeting my palm in thanks. 220414 ... tender_square i have resolved to call george’s new amorous boyfriend “barbara.” 220416 ... tender_square i planned to put out nuts later than usual, resolving to clean the porch of cracked shells that had accumulated over the weeks. i grabbed the broom from the basement and noticed george at the back porch in her preferred stance, poised on hind legs, front legs folded, expectantly gazing at the door. i unlocked it held a walnut in my hand. she tucked her head under the screen door and put half her body on the sill, nearly coming into the house. she nibbled my finger at first, softly, without piercing skin, then got a handle around the wrinkled orb. i told her to go out front, that i would be out there soon. i swept the porch but george didn’t join me. i went back inside for gardening gloves and a piece of tupperware to carry the empty shells from ground to compost bin, noticed she was still at the back porch, standing on the railing for a higher vantage point. i went out the front with the nut bags and walked towards the back of the house, called her over. she followed me, taking her slow, tactical waddle. i put her breakfast in the turtle shell but moved to a spot on the open lawn so i could tidy the raised bed it usually sits on. she tottled to me and i handed her another walnut. i was taking handfuls of crunchy leaves, twigs and mulch along with the casings while george looked on. when i stepped away to empty my container, she was back on the raised bed looking confused. i kept pointing to the grass, “it’s over there, love.” i waited for her to discover it instead of shooing her away from the area i was tending. we then worked two feet from each other; her teeth cracking into cellulose and lignin, my hands crunching plant litter. 220424 ... tender_square erin had her back to my front window while we talked on the couch when a noise interrupted us. george had hopped onto the porch patio table and was pressed against the screen, ever the ham. “i’ve never seen a squirrel up that close before!” erin gushed. “you really do have a pet!” her australian shepherd, moxie, was lying at the lip of the foyer stairs, slighted and sighing over our fawning of george. 220501 ... tender_square she intercepted me in the street as i set out for my morning walk. i was already two houses away with my gaze lifted to the horizon when she waddled in front of me, breaking my stride. i was surprised that she recognized me in my ballcap, when my neighbours are confounded while i wave wearing it, but i guess that how’s tight george and i are now. “i don’t have any nuts on me, honey,” i said as i held out my empty hands for proof. “come see me in a half hour.” 220521 ... tender_square we’ve become porch pals. after her breakfast, she’ll hang around, circling the house and reappearing every few minutes, and i’ll offer more almonds on top of what she’s already consumed. she idles under the protective cover of the swing, but if i put my hand down with a nut, she’ll waddle from her hiding place and take it from my hand with her little hands. barbara will show up and stand at a distance on his hind legs, studying me, but he won’t approach, he’s not that bold yet. i’ll throw nuts in front of him and behind him and his eyes don’t follow the trajectory, he doesn’t chase their bounce. he just stands, watching. geroge becomes insouciant after sniffing my empty hand, sucks on a few maple seed pods before exploring elsewhere in the neighbourhood. (bye.) 220529 ... tender_square the chipmunks are getting into my potted plants again. george bounced on over as i swept up soil, releasing granules back into their ceramic holders. i fed her a walnut and rubbed her arms as she worked her mouth around the shell, her fur was wet with rain. she hopped away as i groomed the plants, removing dried leaves and fallen offsets, and bounded back for a second helping. she stood munching between splatters of bird poop on the porch step as i tended to faltering tendrils. the world may be a mess but still we persist in floofing. 220606 ... tender_square george perched on the roof and wouldn’t come down. i called her and everything, but she preferred to watch me stock the turtle dish; i had a yard sale i was running late for and couldn’t dawdle. forty-five minutes later, george came back around when i was loading the car with boxes of things i didn’t want to hold onto anymore. she kept circling my feet and i couldn’t see where she was. i was getting annoyed with her: “george, i already fed you.” she was relentless, loitering outside the front door as i went back and forth. when it was finally time to go, i picked up my purse and two walnuts. she was sitting on the porch swing and i called her over. she took a nut from my hand and i left the other on the table. “don’t say i don’t love you,” i told her before driving away for the day. 220611 ... tender_square i got in from strolling and took off my ball cap, my sneakers, my small purse. i was about to wash my hands and pack my lunch when i saw george through the front window, sitting on the little porch table, looking for me. i went out with bags of nuts and crouched by the ceramic turtle. “come on over, george,” i said. and she jumped from the table on to the porch and crawled over to me. i held out a walnut and she took it with one paw but didn’t get a firm grasp. i left my palm out to balance it and she stopped wrapping her mouth around the shell and began to sniff my hand. she backed up several paces and sat on the porch step, waiting. “what’s wrong?” i moved my palm closer to her and realized that she smelled maggie on my fingers; i had been petting her at the park. i didn’t smell like george’s safe friend, i carried the scent of a woofer. “oh, you’re so smart, george.” it made me glad that she hadn’t lost her wildness, that she was cautious still. i put the nut on the ground between us. “i didn’t mean to startle you like that,” i softened. she took the nut and hopped from porch to table, from table to swing, from swing to banister and perched there munching happily. 220614 ... tender_square there was a time last year where she had gone missing. in a journal dated july 23, 2021 i wrote: “i still haven’t seen george and i’m worried. part of me wants to walk a street over and block up and down to see if there’s any roadkill. i just imagined myself putting up ‘lost’ posters around the neighborhood asking ‘have you seen this squirrel?’ and the ridiculousness of the whole scenario. part of me has wondered if she’s pregnant and maybe if she’s giving birth somewhere. i hope she is okay. i’ve seen other squirrels come by the property and check the turtle, but none have approached the house or window like she does so i don’t think they’re her.” this morning, i handed her a walnut and she allowed me to stroke her side for more seconds than usual, even though she prefers not to be touched. i think she knew it was my birthday, and it was her way of giving me something meaningful. 220725 ... tender_square i’m porch_blathing after having already fed the floof brigade. george saunters onto the porch and circles the swing beneath me. “i don’t have anything.” i’m chewing on a granola bar of almonds shards glued together with the paste of coconut, nearing my last bite. she stands on her hind legs and looks up at me. i give in and break apart what's left, holding it out for her acceptance. she keenly takes it into her paws and begins to chew, slowly pulling the fibers apart. “it’s good isn’t it?” she gives a slight nod and watches me while she nibbles. “that’s coconut in there, that’s what makes it sticky.” she savors the morsel, gives a roundabout twirl and takes her leave. 220731 ... tender_square she slinks face-first down a tree, stalking me for nuts as i sit on the porch. i hold a small piece of my gala apple down to her level, certain she’ll refuse. she sniffs my hand and turns her back to me, takes two steps, then pisses three puddles on my outdoor rug. 220823 ... tender_square george stood on her hind legs, her front paws pulled my hand down to her height. as she wrapped her mouth around a hazelnut, i stroked the slope of her nose softly with my index finger. she let me touch her twice before she ducked and ran. 220828 ... tender_square “george doesn’t run away when i’m around,” he said proudly. and that gives me hope that he’ll continue to feed her after i’ve gone, that maybe she’ll be a warm visitor that brings light when he’s so alone. 220905 ... tender_square i was convinced i’d never see her again. i couldn’t recall when i’d last fed her, though it was probably before my trial_separation. i had asked my spouse to feed her in my absence but she hadn’t come around. she hasn’t been a morning visitor when i’ve left breakfast in the turtle dish for the birds and the pine squirrel and the chipmunks. there are new squirrels i don’t really know who haven’t yet warmed to me when i try to call them close. my spouse kept insisting he had seen george but he doesn’t know her as well as i do and i was certain he was mistaken. yesterday, while raking the backyard, a portly squirrel hung out near the base of a tree. i stopped to say hello and it studied me as i crouched nearby. we watched one another a long while, me waving my hand, she waving her tail. i asked her to wait while i got food and she did, paws sunk to trunk, surrounded by lush ivy. i held a walnut out and she shifted onto the ground, guarded. her tail was full and thick and that’s when i knew we’d been reunited. “you’re pregnant,” i whispered. she’s thicker everywhere, and moves more methodically. i threw her one wrinkled orb she missed (far-sightedness?), and another heard thump nearby. she collected the shell into her hands and traipsed across the yard through chain-link fence and into the neighbour’s. they own three dogs; i hope she knows what she’s doing. 221102 what's it to you? who go blather from