god's_whisper raze when jaws first started coming around, he was a kleptomaniac with a chip on his shoulder. i was worried he would scare the others off with his habit of running after anyone who got in his way. i never thought he'd grow into such a special soul. there are other squirrels who let me hand-feed them. no one does it quite like him. he relaxes his mouth so there's no risk of causing me harm. then he cranes his neck and waits for me to give him what he needs. twice now he's warned me of what he thinks might be a threat. the way a brother would. for someone who once thought nothing of dining on plastic, he's become maybe the pickiest eater i've ever met. sometimes he doesn't want to eat at all. he just wants to bury things so he'll be ready when winter covers all he knows with a thick blanket of white. one day i gave him a hazelnut. he made it clear he wanted another. i wasn't sure how to make that work. with one small hand, he latched onto the finger i trust most and led me to the space he'd made to hold the second half of his desired snack. the hairs beneath his nose that tell him what the world is made of brushed against the_back_of_my_hand. "i felt jaws' whiskers," i told my dad. what he heard me say was, "i felt god's whisper." and maybe both things can be true. 221129 what's it to you? who go blather from