Squirrel

Last summer we had the most irritating squirrel in the world living in our back yard. He was a Bad squirrel. I called him...mmm...well, "Ballsy". (The name was due to this particular squirrel's rather blatant super-sized male parts and his behavior toward both the people and the 150+ pounds of canines in our yard.) I despised that squirrel. (Grrr. Bad squirrel.) Ballsy would hang out in the crape myrtle behind the house chittering at our dogs and swooping just low enough for them to think they had a chance at catching him only to leap with great acrobatic skill into the live oak--- and out of reach. He seemed to derive pleasure from running along our fence with a certain arrogance as our poor dogs barked impotently from behind the sliding glass door. When Ballsy was particularly awful to my sweet doggies, I would go out and throw rocks at the nasty little rodent. He chittered at me, too. Impudent wee beast that he was, Ballsy eventually tagged himself a female to join in his doggy-taunting games. It was a long summer with Ballsy who also developed the destructive habit of chewing on our house's siding.
I began to speed up when driving down the street as a squirrel ran out into the road rather than slowing down to let the creatures cross. (I never hit one, but I still sped up.) The sight of roadkill became reason for a Grinchy grin to spread over my face when the critter in question was a nut-brown, bushy-tailed, tree-hopping sort of vermin. The children were collectively appalled because the creature in question was so "cute". They saw God's creation. I saw a little devil. I pointed out that the spiders, wasps, and ants that we capture and/or squish were all God's creations, too. Not my finest Mommy moment, but there it was...
Late in the season, I was out pacing around the backyard while talking on the phone. I was thrilled and amazed to see a hawk cruising along over the fence line. I have never seen one flying quite so low. What should my wondering eyes behold, but that this magnificent creature is hauling it's dinner along. I cackled into the phone, and chased along seeking another view of the magnificent hunter's dinner. Sure enough, that birdie had caught ol' Ballsy unaware. Hee. So much for that mean little squirrel, and "WOW!" how often does a gal get to see a bird like that up close? I am not unaware of the irony present in my tale of Ballsy--- and particularly Ballsy's end.