Crazy Squirrel Lady?

My children have started calling me the "Crazy Squirrel Lady."  There's a whole history about this new title. 

This past week I had to write a personal narrative for my college class. I felt a bit stuck as I tried to figure out what to write about. I really had no idea what to write about; I just didn't want my narrative to be a traumatic story.  When I asked my family what I should write about, they all said, "The squirrel!"

So, here's the starting of the squirrel story.  We were only allowed 450 words, so you'll have to wait till another time to hear how it ends.  (I'll just tell you ... I do win!)  I hope you enjoy!

The Porch Swing

I had always wanted a porch swing.  It seems idyllic, the perfect place to read to my children on a cool day with a gentle breeze and the trees swaying back and forth rhythmically.  It was the beginning of fall, and the summer sun was starting to cool down.  The porch swing had been placed on the back deck in the perfect position.  Johnathon, Deborah and I could sit together and swing as we read book after book.  Some nights we would read until I was squinting to see the words in the last hint of sunlight. 

We had just started to love our swing when one afternoon we noticed that something had started to steal the stuffing from our cushions.  What animal could be so unkind?  I examined the wounded cushion looking for clues.  I could see that the woven fabric had been carefully pulled apart, but just enough to pull the white fluffy stuffing through the top of the cushion.  Whatever animal took my belongings left no trace, but came again the next day for more. 

On the third day, the thief returned for more stuffing.  This time he left a trail.  My eyes followed the scant white trail of cotton as it dotted across the yard and up into the two story tall elm tree.  At the very top, I was surprised to see a mansion of a nest, shaped like an egg.  It must have been at least two feet tall and eighteen inches wide.  The bandit was really living large!

I took up a constant surveillance of the porch swing, hoping to catch the critter in action.  For days, I saw nothing.  I thought perhaps the unknown thug had taken all they were going to take.  Then one day, while standing by the back porch door, a beautiful squirrel caught my eye.  He held my gaze with his deep dark eyes.  Then he quickly made his way to my porch swing and mockingly stuck his claws right into my cushions and grabbed some of my stuffing!  How dare he!  I swung open the porch door and yelled at the squirrel as he ran off my deck, “No! Don’t you take my stuffing!”

That’s when it happened. The squirrel stopped.  He put up his paws, turned and fixed his beady eyes on mine, and screeched at me with a high pitched almost-human sounding slur.  He looked like a demonic cartoon squirrel shaking his fists at me.  Without even thinking, I yelled back.  He continued to insult me as he scurried off, stopping just long enough to turn, lifting his feathery tail and mooning me, before disappearing into his well padded mansion in the trees.