I was working at the dining room table this afternoon when something crashed into the window, not a foot from my elbow. My immediate thought was that a bird had flown into the glass, but the dining room window is at the side of the house, and not that far away from the house next door. WIth the trees and fences surrounding both houses, it would take some kind of freaking kamakize dive-bombing bird to pull that off.
And then I spotted the squirrel darting erratically away from the house and noticed the wee muddy paw print smear on the glass, surrounded by what looked like spray patterns of spit or perhaps snot. Nutty squirrel must have jumped from the fence, which butts up to the house, aiming for the rain barrel which is just under the window.
And then I remembered that Sputnik was in the back yard. I wouldn't put it past her to have said something to that squirrel to egg him on. You know how cats can be such assholes. Hey squirrel, bet you can't make it onto the rain barrel from the fence! ... Oh come on, don't be such a chicken shit!
I'm beginning to think our cat is some kind of hypno-toad.
Speaking of being led astray, here's a link to the January issue of BC Musician Magazine. Besides my article, Deconstructing Polaris (pg 24-25), there are stories by the likes of musicians Geoff Berner and Rae Spoon, and a fascinating tale of traveling cross country via van fuelled by french fry grease.
For those of you who are falling all over themselves to start reading my story first (and I am sure you number in the ones), here's the link to Deconstructing Polaris only.
I'm going to leave some Tylenol out for that squirrel tonight.