little_guy raze over the past two years, my dad and i have become friends with almost twenty of the squirrels who live in willistead park. they have to deal with a lot. dogs that aren't leashed are always trying to bite their heads off. sometimes some moron will try to kick them. and a red_tailed_hawk shows up every once in a while looking to make as many meals out of them as he can. so it took some time to gain their trust. little guy was different. the day i met him, he looked too young to be away from the nest. he was hanging off the side of a tree. when i tried to feed him, he moved so i couldn't see him anymore. we circled each other for a while before i gave up and moved on. two days later, he ran our way as soon as he saw us. he psyched himself out with his own bravery and jumped back at the last second. then he shook it off. he never hid from us again. some days, when i didn't see him, i would call his name. wherever he was, if he could hear me, he would always come running. i could spot him from halfway across the park. i'd never seen a squirrel with a tail like his. he was black, but his tail was streaked with all this brilliant light brown. it curled like a question mark. and there was something special about the way he ran. he was fearless, but it was more than that. the simple joy of being alive was stitched into every move he made. i watched him intimidate a group of squirrels who were trying to steal his food, outnumbered three to one, each of the interlopers twice his size. i watched him climb halfway up a tree and growl a warning to the rest of the park when he caught sight of a dog he thought was a threat. i watched him put on a show for us with four other squirrels on the sidewalk that frames the park when we took a heat break in the car a week ago. i watched the same caramel swirl that decorated his tail flood his belly as he grew just a little bit bigger. after newsom, the silver queen, i think little guy became my favourite squirrel of them all. he wouldn't eat at my feet the way newsom does. he always found a sapling or some small tree not far from where we stood. he would either rest his back against the trunk, or he would climb to higher ground. eating was a celebration for him. one morning, after the wind launched him into the air when he tried to run against it, he climbed a tree newsom claimed as hers and ate just above her head, hanging upside_down, while she munched on a shelled peanut of her own. and on christmas day, when it was miserable and raining, he was the first squirrel on the ground to greet us. yesterday red_tail was acting strange. he was standing near a tree he never hangs out at. i threw a few peanuts his way. he didn't move. he just stared at me. this is a squirrel who's never been shy. he'll swipe a peanut from someone else if they aren't quick enough to grab it for themselves. he had all the food he wanted, and he wouldn't touch it. something was wrong. i walked up to him. "hey red tail," i said. "what are you doing?" he turned and looked at something behind him. something at the base of the tree. i'd noticed it from a distance the last time around the park. i thought a squirrel lost a bit of fur in a fight. maybe he was spooked to see that. he looked at me again. he jumped to the trunk of the tree. he didn't climb it. he just froze there. then he came back down. he seemed to gesture to the dark fur. he got close to my feet and tried to tell me something with his eyes. i've never seen an animal look so distraught. so lost. i let him lead me to what he wanted me to see. it wasn't loose fur at the base of the tree. it was a dead squirrel. it was little guy. there was no mistaking that tail for anyone else's. there was no blood. if the hawk had his way with him, he would have been disemboweled. he looked fine. he looked like he was sleeping. i figured a dog must have mauled him. he must have died from shock or internal injuries. but he was so fast. so smart. i couldn't imagine anyone or anything ever catching him, unless he wanted them to. maybe it was the asshole with a german shepherd he goads into chasing squirrels all the time. the guy who's always wearing a baseball cap and carrying a tim hortons coffee he never drinks and listening to talk radio on his phone. the guy who bragged to a stranger about how the city slapped him with a fine after his dog killed a squirrel. he thought it was funny. or maybe little guy just got sick. maybe he fell. anything could have happened. maybe red tail knew. if he did, he couldn't tell me. he calmed down after a while. he moved deeper into the park. he took a peanut off the bounce. newsom and the rest of the usual suspects came out to grab some grub. greyson stopped in front of little guy's body and folded her hands in front of her chest. i swear she was praying. i wanted to take little guy home with me. i wanted to give him a proper burial in my backyard. but the ground is frozen as hard as metallic glass right now. i'd have to get on my hands and knees with a hair dryer and let it puke hot air onto the grass and dirt for an hour to get anywhere. and i'd fucking do it. i would. but i don't think i even own a hair dryer anymore. and my mouth would be a poor substitute for a fan with a ceramic heating element. up close he didn't look like he was sleeping at all. it's one thing when you see roadkill. it's awful, but it's easier to take somehow, because it's meat. it almost doesn't seem real. it's different when you're looking at an animal that was alive and running toward you two days ago, and it's little guy, and he's still so recognizably himself. his eyes weren't black anymore. they were some dull shade of grey i hope i never see again. they weren't even eyes. they were just gone. it hurt to look at him. the only part of him that was moving was his tail, and that was the wind's work. someday i'll die too. but almost every animal i love will die before i do. and it makes me want to cry until there's nothing left inside of me. we had two green microfibre towels in the trunk. as small as he was, it took both of those towels to cover little guy's body. the tip of his tail kept poking out. it didn't matter what i did. the most beautiful part of him refused to disappear. i couldn't find any stones heavy enough to weigh the towels down. i found three thick, heavy branches outside of the park. pieces of trees the wind tore loose on one of those nights when it was loud enough to keep me awake for a while. i set them down on top of the improvised blankets to make a tent in two parts. i let my hand rest on little guy's head through a thin layer of polyester. it wasn't perfect, but it would do until we had more sun to work with and a better shot at digging a trench good enough to hold him. i didn't say goodbye. i just said, "i'll see you, little guy." boxer, a grey squirrel with a shoulder injury that's almost healed, followed us out of the park. he looked at me like he wanted to say, "don't forget us." i won't. i promise. 220121 ... epitome of incomprehensibility I was looking for this when I read your tribute to squirrels (the abridged and illustrated version). The glimpses of their thoughts and feelings, the articulation of yours... pah, I don't know what to say except I felt sad for the company/community of a small animal I've never seen. 220301 what's it to you? who go blather from