So once I lived in Brooklyn for a few years (G had kicked me out of the house for being a bad boy, but that's a different -and more interesting- story).
So it was a nice 6 bedroom 3-floor victorian of which I was lease holder (boss), and I lived in the beautiful huge top room, with 4 windows and 6 closets (yes 6).
It was in a really nice unknown (at the time) neighborhood, with lots of trees all around. It wasn't like NY at all.
So, there I lived, quietly, peacefully, with nothing unusual going on. Until....
One night I was going to sleep, and i found under my pillow a hard half-eaten bagel. Hmm. That's odd I thought. Why would one of my roommates do this and what am I supposed to make of it? Did I eat someone's bagel and not admit it? No (it was a very passive-agressive house, lots of note-leaving and no actual arguing - ooh I HATE that!).But I didn't really care, so I threw it away and went to sleep.
About a week or so later I had forgotten all about it, when one night I lay down and - lo and behold - a half-eaten Powerbar (with half it's wrapper still on) was under my pillow.
Double Hmmm. Now what were they trying to tell me?
Not being afraid of confrontation with my pissy little generation Y roomies, I asked each one what the fuck they thought they were doing. Well, no, I was much nicer about it, but they all claimed ignorance.
So, another week or so goes by - this time it's an acorn under my pillow. By now I'm just enjoying the whimsicality of it. Maybe it was magic.
Then one day I came home and went up to my room and there he was:
(photo actually stolen from lemuria bause I couldn't find the squirrel pics in LadyK's folders)
He wasn't that scared but he ran out my open window pretty quickly. I was thrilled! I had a friend! He was welcome anytime, but he never came in when I was home.
My roommates became aware of this and freaked out, the pussies. Mr Squirrel never did anything but come in and hide stuff under my pillow and leave.
They thought he might have rabies, which, personally, I think is probably a pretty interesting way to die anyway. We fought about it a lot, but the weather was getting colder, and pretty soon the argument was moot. That's right moot, not mute.
One frosty day though, probably in early December, my friend returned. My window was shut and I was sittng on my bed spacing out, when I noticed movement at the window. Mr Squirrel wanted to come back in and get some of that food he had hidden away. I pretended I didn't see him.
Poor guy.
Much love