That’s Charles! That boy always was weak-minded. He’s down there digging up the nuts I just buried fifteen minutes ago. More embarrassing, he’s my own kit, from three litters past. Doesn’t he remember his own Mother’s scent? No, he doesn’t! . . . Ah well . . . the fourth part of a mother role is to be to be forgotten.
Alice scanned about; through the forest she could see two of her daughters.
I don’t suppose they remember their mother, either.
They were such brats. One day soon they’ll have litters of their own. Then they’ll see. I hope there’s enough trees left. Alice explains – You see, this isn’t a real forest. Truth is, it’s only a curving copes of trees in back of miss Jenny’s yard. But it’s our forest. I hope there’s enough of it left.
Alice, distracted, points to the house below.
Oh look! It’s time for crunchy goodness. Miss Jenny is so nice. Every afternoon, she scatters a feast of seed, grain, and peanuts all over the flagstone by the picnic table. Miss Jenny peeks at us from kitchen window. She thinks we don’t notice. Such a nice lady, so generous.
I hope she’s saved some for herself. The feast is always delicious, it would be perfect if it weren’t for those darned birds and chipmunks.
The other small problem in the forest is the neighbor’s dog, Lucy. Thank goodness she’s fat, deaf, and slow. The younger ones tease her. They pretend to be distracted, then they wait for Lucy to lumber over at her top-speed of eventually. At the last second, they scamper off leaving Lucy with her tongue hanging out and looking dumb.
Lucy really is dumb. She never catches on. I used to think it was funny. Now it seems sad. I stopped teasing her long ago. It really is a silly thing to do.
So, few troubles, although . . . just last week I was up on the roof, keeping my eye on Jenny and some stranger. They were talking across the picnic table. I understood what they were saying because I’m telepathic, most animals are - people, too, but people don’t use their telepathic sense because they’ve talked themselves out of it.
Anyway, the young man was trying to impress her by talking about the new squirrel rifle he’d just gotten. That’s right. SQUIRREL RIFLE! Jenny stopped him mid-sentence saying,
“I hope you don’t plan on shooting my squirrels - my friends”!
I joined her agitation with my own chittering scolding. “You hear that. Now you’ve upset Alice”. “No, no, no” he protested, nothing like that”. Jenny was not deceived. She fumed. He left shortly after, giving me a dirty look on his way out. Good riddance, Jenny deserves a much better beau than that squirrel-killing criminal.
Oh well, enough about that. Winter’s coming on. That’s always a problem. There’ll be a lot of snow this year. I’m not too worried though. I’m pretty well set, got extra lining in my nest and plenty of nuts stored, unless . . . unless . . . Charles has dug up more of my winter-store than I know about.
Oh dear, I better check.
Nice talking to you
I gotta go!