The Squirrel Watchers

I felt rather than heard the cat's tail tapping. He was sitting by the deck looking out its windows, transfixed.

What was he looking at? A huge, gray squirrel, with a big, fluffy tail. And it had brought something with it. Some kind of fruit - maybe an apple? - in its paws.

And so the cat and I became squirrel watchers: transfixed, together.

The squirrel sat quietly, turning the fruit round and round in its paws. Then it bounded to the corner of the deck where it sat in a pile of snow with its prize.

Took a dainty bite. Then buried its entire face into the dripping fruit. Looked at me, held the fruit up high, as though offering me a taste.

And then it took another huge bite. The squirrel's face disappeared. And then the squirrel carefully placed the fruit into the pile of snow.

Delicately covered the fruit with the white stuff, using its wee (sticky?) gray paws as shovels: a gentle pat, pat, pat.

And bounded away into the snowy woods, with a twitch of a gray tail.

The soundtrack: Ohio Express, from 1968, with Yummy, Yummy, Yummy.