When I’m Feeling Fancy I Wear A Squirrel As A Hat
I startled a squirrel in my backyard Saturday morning and in its attempt to make a hasty retreat it ran up my back – rearranged my hair – and then jumped onto a tree branch where it sat, out of breath giving ME stink-eye.
I may have peed a little.
At the time I was not strolling peacefully through the patio, nor was I happily gardening. Nope. I was wrangling a wind chime that is taller than I am. With its five-foot long baritone chimes bonging away with each step I took as I walked out to the courtyard to look for a place to hang it, I was struck by its weight. That sucker was heavy as I held it up over my head in an awkward attempt to keep it from tripping me.
Let me just mention that my boxer, Ruby, was also underfoot freaking out at the bongity-bong absurdity of it all.
Bong, bong, bong…half way across the courtyard it happened.
Apparently, the squirrel had a weekend appointment at the spa that is the fountain outside my patio door. It was never expecting a five-foot tall walking wind chime to interrupt its Saturday solitude. Scared shitless, it leaped off the fountain and in mid-air is probably when it saw the dog.
I’m feeling sorry for the squirrel now, aren’t you?
Anyway, I’m assuming that’s when said squirrel used me as its own personal stairway to freedom. I’m sure I wasn’t its first choice—just the best choice since I was between the dog and the tree.
As it reached my hair I realized what was happening and that is when the screaming began. Screaming for me is rare, but when I do scream you can smell buttered popcorn because it is a full-throated, bloodcurdling, horror movie scream that comes from my big toe.
It is a scream that chills hearts and strikes fear in everyone who hears it. Dogs bark, glass shatters, horses buck their riders, jump their enclosures and run for open ground.
My husband and Maria (our blind cleaning lady), both came running outside. She was carrying the vacuum cleaner as a weapon. He came loaded with a smirk. He thinks it’s hilarious when I scream.
I blame the screaming for the peeing. It is literally impossible to scream that loud and NOT pee. Swear to God. I think there have been studies.
As the scream echoed through the courtyard, our neighbors called over the fence “OMG! Are you guys okay over there?”
“Yeah, she’s fine”, he answered.
He shook his head, grabbed the giant, 5000-ton wind chime from me, and carried it effortlessly on one finger, like a feather, over to the table.
That’s when it hit me, you guys! Even with a squirrel crawling up my back and doing the Macarena in my hair—I did not drop the wind chimes!
Please, you gotta give me this one thing.