The Squirrel
By William Cowper
Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm
That age or injury has hollow'd deep,
Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves,
He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
To frisk a while, and bask in the warm sun,
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play.
He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,
Ascends the neighbouring beech; there whisks his brush,
And perks his ears, and stamps and scolds aloud,
With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm,
And anger insignificantly fierce.
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On Wednesday morning I went to meet my friend Linda, who was walking her puppy as I arrived. We played with the dog for a while, then took a walk at Wootton's Mill Park, where we saw many geese, a couple of herons, lots of songbirds, a few turtles, and a baby squirrel whose mother we are hoping was right nearby (I was afraid to move it in case she was). Then we went back to Linda's house, where she fed me lunch and we got on our usual Wednesday Zoom call with our other two high school friends, while my shoes were licked clean by the puppy!
In the late afternoon I had to go by the house because I was expecting packages -- all our catnip toys were accidentally packed, so I had to order new ones -- and we stopped by Giant to get cat treats and AAA batteries while we were out. Then we took a walk around the neighborhood where our Airbnb is located before dinner, after which we watched The Mandalorian season finale, which I liked a lot, and 80 For Brady, which is about as predictable as I expected but lots of fun with those four actresses and football players interacting.
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