If anyone remembers this thread, I’ve had a cute little squirrel that I’ve named Chubbers hanging out in front of my office window. I think he’s adorable. If I didn’t fear an illness, I’d try to make friends with him and take him home to live alongside my two cats. (Okay, he also runs like a mama’s boy when I come outside to get the mail…).
Today, I was leaving my office, the last person in the building, apparently. As I turned the corner out of the parking lot to go out onto the street, I saw Chubbers out of the corner of my eye. He came flying from a bush on the right side of my car, and flung himself in front of my car. And then he sat there, giving me the eye. I think he was saying “Come on. My life sucks. I hate those damn acorns. Hit me!”.
I’ve only hit a squirrel in my life once before, and I then sobbed for an hour as I completed my drive. So hitting Chubbers wasn’t an option. I tooted my horn, hoping he’d get out of the road. He ran back into the bush.
Home-free, right?
Wrong.
I started to press on the gas pedal a little so that I could leave, and this little bugger decided to hurl himself across the driveway, narrowly missing my tires. He then flew across the yard and over to his ‘safe’ tree.
You need to talk some sense into that squirrel. I know a squirrel that’s so fat he doesn’t hop (like squirrels normally do) so much as hobble. Life can’t be that bad for your squirrel.
I think you need to take him to a therapist and make sure he works through some of his problems before this ends in a way that none of us want…unless you like squirrel stew
Oh man. Squirrel flavored road kill is so common where I live that every time I see a live one (which is rare in comparison to the dead ones), I picture what he’d look like dead.
Not that I’d ever want to hit one, I brake for bugs for crying out loud. But if Chubbs was trying THAT hard to play life and death games with your car, then I think it’s safe to say he’s unworthing of spreading his genes in the squirrel gene pool.
I hit a squirrel once and was so upset that I got out of the car and contemplated giving him CPR.
Then it dawned on me that I’d have a lot of explaining to do when I arrived at the hospital with a dead rodent fastened on to my lip.
Thing is, he plays Squirrel Russian Roulette all the time. He’s got a death wish. I see him dashing across the busy street in front of our office all the time, the little nut.
Yeah, I think so. Then again, I can’t talk 'cause I wanted to pull off at the next exit and see if I could see him on the side of the road (common sense took over very quickly, and I didn’t, of course).
I’m gaining a reputation around the office as the crazy squirrel girl. Luckily, they like me.
