NOW THAT CHRISTMAS IS OFFICIALLY over, and I really don’t give a rat’s behind about New Years Eve, I’d like to talk about something that’s been on my mind quite a bit lately – Squirrels.
After a lot of thought, and an exhaustive fact-finding mission to St. Arbucks, I have determined that squirrels are the dumbest animals on Earth.
Sure, I know that there aren’t many squirrels actually inside the Chapel at St. Arbucks, but it’s more fun than a fact-finding mission to Wal-Mart. Anyway, I think we can all agree – squirrels are dumb.
I know, some people say, “Oh, but they’re cute.” They are rats with a hairstylist and a press agent. OK?
I’ve managed to run over several squirrels recently. Flat. Flat enough to put in an envelope and mail to my Ex. “Thinking of you.”
I say squirrels are dumb, not because they get run over a lot. So do opossums, dogs, cats, and politicians. But, squirrels do it with their own special, furry, small rodent style.
Squirrels are… indecisive. They can’t make up their little minds what they want to do.
Dogs, on the other hand, are very DE-cisive.
“I’m gonna go. I’m gonna go. NOW!”
Blam! Nailed by a minivan. Decisive, but with a poor sense of timing.
Cats are decisive as well.
“I’m gonna cross the street whenever I darned well feel like….”
Blam! Nailed by a blonde in a Cadillac Escalade. Decisive, but too reliant on that “I have nine lives” thing.
But squirrels? Indeed!
“I think I’ll cross the street. Scamper, scamper. Keep my cute little tail up in the air like my publicist said.”
Then, about 2/3rds of the way across the street… “Wait, maybe I shouldn’t cross the street. I think I’ll go back and…” Blam! Nailed by me in my Toyota.
Why do they get almost all the way across and then stop and go back, right in front of my 3000 lb. piece of Japanese steel?
Because they as dumb as a sack full of hammers!
Last month I was driving down Ohio Boulevard, in Terre Haute, when three, count ‘em, three, squirrels run out in front of me, one after the other. It was like a shooting gallery. I don’t know if it was some bizarre squirrel love triangle – a suicide pact or whatever – a poofy-tailed Jonestown? (tap,tap,tap) I couldn’t help it. I got a hat trick.
A squirrel trying to cross a busy street is a perfect illustration of a pet concept of mine: “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” Like drinking 37 beers and then saying, “I think I’ll top it off with a strawberry milkshake.” Or walking up to a beautiful woman in a bar and saying, “Hello, gorgeous, my name is Felipe. I’m married and contagious.”
Just about every day I see the little brown pelts littering the streets. Obviously, for all the chattering that squirrels do with each other, they never discuss their faulty street crossing technique. Well, I don’t consider it my duty to embark upon a campaign to educate them. They are on their own. And, besides, they provide a good source of protein to all the crows that winter in Terre Haute.
Or maybe they just get drunk and play a game of auto roulette now and then?