A Squirrel's Demise

There's nothing like sharing coffee with a friend on the patio and witnessing a brutal murder.

So it was on Friday, a beautiful afternoon and the beginning of a slumber party weekend, that Patty and I enjoyed coffee and conversation on the patio. We were giddy with the prospect of spending two days doing only what we wanted to do. We discussed the many possibilities - definitely eating out and not even thinking about cooking, maybe some shopping, and leaving plenty of time to just relax.

We decided on a restaurant for dinner and scouting out a book store for some good reading material. Our attention was diverted to the yard where George, a stray cat who has adopted us, was investigating something in the grass. Suddenly, we saw what looked like a squirrel do a quick flop in the grass and go still. For some reason I didn't question, Patty remained on the patio while I crossed the yard for a closer inspection.

I found either a sick or injured squirrel who wouldn't move a muscle as I approached. I could see that he was still breathing, but big horse flies had already claimed him. And sweet George seemed very sympathetic if a little playful. He would lightly tap the poor animal, or roll in the grass next to it. It was as if he sensed something wrong and would do no further damage. Finally, however, George lost interest or decided to let the squirrel die with dignity. Patty and I, too, quit watching the spot in the grass and continued our conversation.

Minutes passed, then Patty pointed to what she believed was another ill squirrel on the pool decking. Again, she remained seated while I investigated. I noticed the one in the grass was gone and assumed it had crawled to the decking. But unfortunately for the squirrel, it wasn't George who noticed him again, but Lucky, another stray that feeds in our back yard.

I will point out here that Robin names all the cats that eat at our house. There are five now. He has a quirky sense of humor that defies explanation, but I will say that there is a reason behind each name. Lucky will happily take the food and bedding we supply, but we have not gained his trust. We have not touched this cat. He won't allow it. Anyway, I once saw Lucky running down our driveway with a squirrel in his mouth, so I knew he was about to put this squirrel out of its misery.

Lucky did a stealthy approach as only a cat can do. He seemed surprised that his victim didn't jump up and run. He crept closer and closer. Then, he went in for the kill. Patty and I cringed at the sound the squirrel made, but it was shrill, brief, and over in seconds. Lucky carried his prey behind a tree at a far corner of the yard. It was over. And although it had been traumatic for us as well, I was relieved the suffering was over. The squirrel was obviously ill and in the throes of death. Lucky was his Dr. Kavorkian.

After a few shivers, I looked at Patty and asked, "Ready to go eat now?"

And so we did.