Squirreled Away

I lay in Rose Petal’s lap, her hands lightly brushing the fur on my back, stroking from my neck to the stump where my tail had once begun. She was making a noise – not her usual chatter, but an arhythmic moaning accompanied by spasmodic tremors that jounced me repeatedly.

I called her Rose Petal because that’s what she smelled like the day she found me. The feral cat that had attacked me raised its head, looked at her and hissed. Rose Petal chattered angrily, and the cat trotted away through the gap in the hedge. When Rose Petal ran away, I expected to die there, to bleed to death from my wounds, or worse if the cat found the courage to come back. But Rose Petal returned just as I saw the cat’s eyes appear under the hedge. She swaddled me in a towel, picked up my severed tail and took me to the woodcave that became my home.

She tended to my wounds, wrapping me in white cloth. She put me in a wire box and gave me water from a tube. I fell asleep. When I woke, she gave me more water and fed me nuts and dried apricots that she held in black tongs. In a few days, she removed the cloth, and I could move around in my box, drink water from a shallow bowl and eat all the nuts and fruit I wanted.

Through a hole in the wall, I could see the tree where my nest had been. My friends Flitter and Skitter frolicked, chasing each other around the trunk. I wanted to be with them.

Mama taught me to stay away from the Big Folk, the ones who walk on two legs with fur that changes daily. At first, I was afraid of Rose Petal. Every day, she would reach into my box with her hand inside a bigger hand. She would corner me, grasp me by the neck and pull me out. She stroked my fur while I squirmed, trying to get away. When I tried to bite the bigger hand, she would make a sound that I came to understand was a cry of happiness.

After a few days, I stopped trying to bite. After a few more, I no longer squirmed. One day, she opened the door of my box and stepped back. I was free. I could return to my tree, to my friends, to my old life. I poked my head out the door and made a leap toward the nest where Rose Petal spent her nights. Without a tail to balance my jump, I landed on my chin and slid to the floor. Rose Petal made that happy sound. She picked me up and put me on her nest. I made my way toward the hole in the wall. I leapt toward my tree, more carefully this time, and smashed into an invisible wall.

I was a prisoner.

As time went by, I explored the woodcave. I found hiding places in dark corners and in the spaces under furniture where the Big Folk couldn’t go. I spent hours on the ledges near the invisible walls watching Flitter and Skitter who seemed unaware of my presence. When I was hungry or thirsty, I returned to my wire box. Every night, Rose Petal latched the door.

Two other Big Folk lived in the woodcave with Rose Petal. An older female, who always seemed busy, smelled of onions and garlic. Whenever Onion saw me, she jumped a little, then quickly relaxed and offered me a treat.

A giant male, tall and broad with fur around his mouth, smelled of fire. Smoke seldom looked at me and never interacted. When he did look, I could taste his contempt. He was evil.

I don’t say that lightly. I had a lot of time to think about it. Smoke wanted me dead and gone. I could tell by the look in his eyes, by the tone of his chatter with Onion and Rose Petal when I was near. He was strong enough to tear my legs off, but my biggest fear was that he would crush me with one unintentional step beneath those massive outer-feet. I stayed away if I could and moved to a different part of the woodcave if he came near.

The cat was also evil. I saw it stalking birds. I saw it toying with a mouse it caught. One day, Skitter fell off a low branch. The cat pounced, leaping from the hedge. Skitter nearly got away, but the cat pinned him between its paws. I listened in horror to Skitter’s cries, muffled by the invisible wall. I turned away and never sat on that ledge again.

After that, I spent more time in Rose Petal’s lap. I came to love the feel of her hand stroking my fur. Outside the woodcave, the leaves fell, the snow came and went, and the trees sprouted new foliage. I felt like I had lived with Rose Petal my entire life. The memory of my days in the tree with Flitter and Skitter, foraging for acorns and berries, was so faint that I sometimes doubted that I had ever lived outside the woodcave.

Now I savored the strokes that Rose Petal was making. Smoke came to the hole in the wall that led to the rest of the woodcave. He chattered something brief in his deep voice. Rose Petal took a deep breath and chattered a brief reply. The jouncing stopped. She lifted me in both hands, bringing our faces together. Her lips came forward and touched my nose. She put me in my wire box, removed my water and food bowls and latched the door shut. She chattered to me in a quiet voice.

Something was wrong. I had free run of the woodcave, even when Rose Petal was gone. It had been a long time since my door had been latched in the daytime. The last time my bowls were removed, Onion had taken me to visit the woodcave that smelled of a thousand dogs and cats, and I had tolerated the probing and poking of a man who wore a white coat and purple outer hands.

Rose Petal’s eyes were wet. She picked up my wire box and carried it out of her nest-room. Smoke took the box from her and put an arm around her shoulders. He chattered to her quietly. That was unlike Smoke. Rose Petal collapsed on the soft bench and made louder moans. Onion sat with her arm around Rose Petal’s shoulders. Rose Petal leaned her head against Onion’s chest. I wanted to go to her. She needed me.

Smoke carried my wire box outside the woodcave. The sun shone brightly. Flitter perched on a low branch and chattered at me, inviting me to come home. I was pleased that he remembered me after such a long time, but Smoke put me in the rolling box before I could reply. He sat beside me. I heard a low rumble, and the box started to move.

“Where are you taking me?” I chattered, but Smoke didn’t understand. He didn’t even try to understand.

We passed trees and woodcaves with hedges and fences. Then the landscape changed to fields of low grass. This was not the path to the dog and cat woodcave.

“Go back,” I chattered, but Smoke continued away from my home. “Rose Petal needs me.”

The landscape continued unchanged. I repeated my plea louder and louder, hoping that Smoke would get the message. But he was evil. Even if he understood, he would do whatever was worst for me.

Smoke stopped the rolling box near a grove of trees. I heard the rush of water nearby. Smoke opened a door and picked up my wire box. “Don’t leave me here,” I chattered. “I’ll die.”

He carried the box toward the trees and put it on a patch of bare ground. I heard other squirrels chattering in the trees. This was their territory. They didn’t want me here.

“Don’t leave me here.”

Smoke reached down, unlatched the door and opened it. He chattered something.

I wasn’t getting out of that box. I wasn’t going to let him win. If he wanted to kill me he needed to do it with his own two hands.

He reached into the box. I tried to bite him, but he grabbed me by the back and pulled me out. He carried me to the tree and placed me on a low branch. He chattered something low and sinister, then he picked up my wire box and turned to walk back to the rolling box.

“Don’t leave me here. Rose Petal needs me. I’ll die here. These squirrels will tear my limbs off.”

The rolling box moved away with a puff of smelly fumes.

“Come back here, you bastard.”

As I watched the box disappear, three squirrels descended to a branch just above mine.

“How’d you lose your tail? Get caught in the Big Folk’s machines?”

“You smell like a Big Folk. Did a witch turn you into a squirrel?”

All of them laughed. I looked for another tree, but the landscape was bare for as far as I could see.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

When Ben opened the front door, his daughter Heather was waiting.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He chattered all the way there. He sounded happy.”

“Is there food?” she said. “And water?”

“There’s a bunch of squirrels living there. I checked it out yesterday. This seemed like the best place. He won’t be alone.”

“Where is it?”

“I told you it would be a secret. I don’t want you thinking you can go rescue him.”

She hung her head. “You’re right.”

“He’s better off out there. Wild animals should live in the wild.”

“You’re right,” she repeated, a little of the petulant teen coming through.

She started toward her room but turned around. “Daddy?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it.”