Yesterday during lunch I was sitting outside on my little blanket attempting to complete my weekly New York Magazine crossword puzzle. This is my favorite crossword puzzle because it's not too easy or too difficult and is culturally relevant enough to capture my attention and teach me a few things.
Maybe it was because I had pandora streaming from my blackberry's speaker or maybe it was because my hair was a slept-on, wind-blown mess, making me look like a rodent, but I realized that someone or something was watching me.
He was small. 8 inches at the most, not including his tail, and he was on the thin side. He was confident, though. He observed me for a minute... and then he began his approach. Staring intently ahead, this little creature marched within 6 feet of my blanket, ignoring my order to "Go away!" He had a gleam in his little beady eyes that made me nervous as he got closer and closer. When he was 3 feet away I threw my right shoe at him and he reluctantly retreated.
Temporarily.
I had barely filled in "HOSTILE" for 4 Across', "Far from friendly" clue, when he crept back into a space I would prefer to call a squirrel-free zone. This time he was fearless and defiantly sidestepped my flying left shoe. I stood up in just in case I needed to make a barefoot run for my life. He zig-zagged forward, close enough to take a full-shower from my cup, and I threw 16 oz of cold water on the beast. He was stunned by the attack and hopped around twitching the water off his furry spy jacket.
I stood there trying to gauge the likelihood of another assault and considering my options if one were to take place. In terms of "fight," I could throw my magazine, which would probably not go very far. I could throw my phone, which probably wouldn't be damaged by the grass but also wouldn't DO very much. In terms of "flight," I could take off, barefoot, into the parking lot screaming, "Killer Squirrel!!" Fortunately he backed away toward his side of the lawn.
After glaring at me for a few minutes while drying off, he scampered laterally away from me and circled back. I stared him down and he stared right back but did not come as close as the last time. This went on for close to 5 minutes before he started scoping out better hiding places.
For the duration of my lunch hour, the little bastard did not let me out of his sight, nor did I allow loss of visual contact with the suspect. With a disappointing number of empty columns and rows left in my crossword puzzle, I gathered my things and backed away toward my building.
A few days later, I was picking up some lunch in the office park with a friend when Mr. Squirrel made another appearance. He stood between me and the little deli and stared me down. My friend scared him away but only long enough for us to enter the deli. He was out there waiting for us, and I could see him from inside. He was loitering around the doorway just waiting for his chance. With sandwich in hand, I made a run for it and just barely escaped, rabies-free. He sat glaring at us as we drove away in my friend's car, wishing that he himself had a squirrel car so that he could follow us and eat our lunches.
