The Bombing of “The Ivy”

Mom’s sweet tiny home is named “The Ivy.” My home is with Moms, of course, but when traveling, I sleep any old place Mom decides to throw my bed. On the farm & Pike Bay, it’s in the screen tent. The screen tent protects me from the rain & biting bothersome stupid bugs. The see-thru screens allow me to keep my protective awareness going all night long.

I want to talk about the “Little Basterds,” AKA squirrels… The Ivy is an uninsulated fiberglass camper. She’s nestled in a grove of trees under many Oaks. When acorns drop from the tall might Oak onto Ivy’s roof, it sounds like a firecracker going off. When an acorn hits, both Moms & I jump; tolerable during the day, not at night.

Enter the Little bastards; they taunt me. Their sing-song chatter is irritating while their come-hither fluffy tails dance behind their little butts. Not only do they scramble up & down the tree & its branches, but they also fly from one tree to another. Personally, I’d be impressed If I wasn’t so darn frustrated that I can’t catch one. I actually get a crock in my neck with all the looking up I have to do, plus I get worn out running 2 feet, slamming on my brake paws, lunging up a tree; hit repeat all afternoon. They always get the best of me.

I’m thinking of adding acorns to my diet. The little irritants never seem to run outa of energy; it must be the acorns.

The acorn issue is terrible this year. Why? After using a steady watchful eye, I do this while I’m resting on my back. This back resting gets the kinks outa my neck from hours of looking up watch squirrel antics. Also, the blood from my overworked paws & legs drains back into my body where it’s supposed to be. It’s pretty comfy, soothing & therapeutic. You 2-leggeds should try it & then name a Yoga position after me like The Manly Otis Rest Technique.

One day as I was scoping out the little Basterds, what horror did my eyes behold? The tree scamperers were collecting acorns. No! not for the fall harvest. No! Not for munching on while watching the sunset.

They collect them to stand tall, tiny feet wide apart, holding an acorn above their tiny heads & with all their incredible squirrel might, they throw the acorn, dive-bomb style right onto Ivy’s roof! It sounds like a mini fourth of July fireworks celebration inside.

After the acorn hurls, the little basterds dance to & fro on the branch, laughing their little squirrel chatter, tail swinging mockingly behind their butts.

Moms & I looked each other in the eye, our thoughts in sync if only we had a gun.

I’m trying to talk Mom into getting a gun, like a paintball gun. It’s difficult for Mom to kill anything- luckily, I do not have that issue. My vision is Mom rocking comfortably in her porch rocker, gun at the ready resting on her lap Annie Oakley style. A squirrel snickers; Mom whips the gun up & knocks the pest right off the branch with a blast of red paint. As the evil fellows lay inert, I come in to finish his sass, & our misery forever.

Mom would use red paint. Then she won’t get weird seeing the red on the aftermath. After all, blood & paint mix well. Right?

While I continue to fantasize about the demise of the little Basterds scampering in the trees, Mom is throwing old rugs on top of Ivy’s roof. While that will work just fine, where is my fun? Sometimes My Mama is a bit self-centered.

I hope you all have a fun fantasy today, preferably one without blood.

Luv, Otis

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