squirrels, part 1

So my junior and senior years of college, I had some run-ins with the rabid squirrels that live off the land/garbage on and around Penn’s campus. Several people said I should write about my experiences, so I decided to revisit my old journal and post some abbreviated entries here (ok, so I didn’t really keep a journal about it, but I feel like it’ll sound better in journal entry form). Additionally, in a later post, I’m going to include some squirrel journal entries, you know, just my own conjectures of what the squirrel/squirrels would have written themselves about our encounters.

Monday, March 13^th

Went to class. For some reason, didn’t feel like riding my bike. Walked instead. Class was boring. Came home. Started walking up to my door. Bike was locked up to the rail next to it. Noticed something strange sitting on the seat from the distance. Got closer. Saw that it was a moldy, half-eaten apple core. Stopped/stared in shocked silence. Picked up apple core, threw it into garbage cans right across the driveway, all while cursing idiot who had placed it there when the trash was so close. What kind of sick joke was that? Went inside. Was too irate about it still that night to go to sleep. Stared at ceiling in the dark, thinking about the apple core.

Thursday, March 16^th

Didn’t ride to class again, for no apparent reason. Boring again. Found another apple core on my bike seat at home. Who is this jerk? I think I might get some sort of security camera and find out, then pelt him or her with apple cores.

Friday, March 24^th

Was sitting on the loveseat in my teeny living room. Tofu (my cat) was sitting on the windowsill, as she often does, staring through the bars and dreaming of her days of freedom wandering the streets of the Philadelphia Zoo. She started making those weird noises like Boots and Koko used to do when they’d see birds outside. Couldn’t see what she was looking at. She was looking over by my front door, which isn’t easy to do unless your face is smashed up against the glass. Didn’t want to leave a face-print on the window, so got up and looked through the peephole. Didn’t see anyone or anything at first. Looked closer. Saw a squirrel sitting on my bike seat, eating a soggy tortilla chip. Jaw dropped. Wha…?! Opened door, chased squirrel off, stood on porch, shaking fist.

Monday, March 27^th

It rained last night, so couldn’t ride my bike. With its new, plush, velvet coated seat, was tempted, but the extra-comfy foam had soaked up roughly two gallons of water, so had to walk. Got home. Walked up to front door. Something didn’t look right. Realized there was small hole dug into the foam, nickel-sized, about half an inch deep, right in the center of the seat. You’re dead, squirrel!