It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon in September, and the temperature had cooled off to the low 90’s.  Here in North Texas this means we breathe a collective sigh of relief as the drop in temperature signals the coming of our two weeks of fall.  Okay, maybe we have more than 2 weeks occasionally but it was just one of those days and I decided to take advantage of the time off to enjoy some two-on-one time with my dogs, Skye and Ranger.

Since they, like many of us, have had to adjust to a polite and rule-ridden society, it is no longer acceptable for them to hunt for their own food or

run free at will throughout the perfectly manicured trails of my very masterfully planned neighborhood.  Therefore our afternoon would be reduced to a trip to the “leash free dog park” followed by a relaxing hunt up and down the aisles of Petsmart.

Since this was a weekday, I was excited by the fact that the parking lot of the dog park sat perfectly empty when we rolled in.  This meant that they and I would have the place all to ourselves.

Off they went, leash free to jump, play and enjoy a run of sheer dogness. Picture perfect happiness.  Dogs being dogs.  Me sitting under an old oak tree warm with their joy.

As I looked around I noticed that these were the perfect trees for squirrel homes. However, being that these trees were pretty fairly scattered and their branches did not overlap to create a much needed safety net in this environment, after all this was a squirrel chasing dogs dream come true, the chance that a squirrel would reside here seemed slim to none.  “Never the ‘twain shall meet” as it goes, and when they do, it’s usually not good.  That would either be a fairly brave squirrel or one who had not paid much attention to the lessons of squirrelhood, I thought to myself. 

As if on cue, I noticed the silence.  Eerie.  No more jangling of rabies and name tags, no more pounding of paws on the hard packed dirt.  Fearing that they had somehow escaped the double-gated park, I slowly turned, dreading how my world would change if I were not able to find them.

Then, way off in the distance I saw Skye in a state most peculiar.  Perfectly statue still.   This is simply incomprehensible for her.  I was shocked and quite frankly a little worried.

She stood near the pecan tree, frozen in place, not moving a muscle.  I called out to her and she ignored me.  Not a bat of an eye nor the twitch of an ear.  My fear deepened as I closed in on her and realized she wasn’t actually perfectly still.  Every muscle in her body was quivering uncontrollably and she seemed to be panting yet her mouth was not open.

Seemingly paralyzed, waves of muscle spasms continued up and down her spine while saliva dripped from her jowls.  Was she having a seizure?  Was it because she had outdone herself in her freedom run?  Was this all my fault?  The sun seemed to have lost its warmth and I felt chilled with fear.  Where was the nearest emergency animal clinic?

Suddenly I felt my animal instinct take over and with a bolt of clarity  I followed her gaze.  Bam!  Right there eye to eye with her sat a very plump and confident squirrel hanging in the down position from the trunk, his mouth fat with a juicy pecan.  His gaze fixed on her, hers on him, and I, about to have a heart attack until I remember to breathe again.  For a brief moment as the blood rushed to my head I felt relief.  Then just as suddenly I was gripped with a horrifying realization.
 
The squirrel was about to bolt.

Funny thing about animals and people.  We “animal people” get accused of anthropomorphism as if it were the greatest of sins committed against nature.  Without apology, I am about to make that grave leap, just as did this very calculating gambler of a squirrel.  The tension was higher than at a seat at the World Poker Series.  Game face on!

I was all too aware that if I moved it would start a horrific chain of reaction in a split second. All three of us sat contemplating our next chess-like move.  All the “what-ifs” racing through our alerted minds.  All attempts to outwit the other foiled with the realization that each of us had our weak point that could possibly end this in bloodshed.  Well not mine actually, but a bloody and injured animal would most likely end up in my car and on my conscience.  The tension grew palpable.
Some animal lovers suggest that it is possible to subconsciously communicate with animals by sending visual images to them.  What the heck, it was worth a try and I was growing desperate.

As I opened a mental dialogue with the little daredevil I realized I might have just lost my mind.

Please, Please don’t run, I begged.

He replied by letting me watch as his eyes coldly darted from the oak tree on his left, to the dog and then to the pecan tree on his right. 

Don’t do it!!

No again, as he quivered with anticipation and a very deliberate twitch of his tail.
Don’t you understand dog instinct?!

Don’t care, gotta get to that other tree.

His eyes were crystal clear in their message.  He was planning, assessing and yes, calculating.

Time stood as still as the dog.  This could not end well.

And then it happened.

With a flick he took what he thought was his only chance.  I was stunned at how fast a squirrel can run with a mouth full of food.  In the golden afternoon sunlight it would have been a beautiful scene had it not been for the horror of it all.  His auburn fur, fine musculature, bushy golden tail flying in the dappled sunlight across a green meadow.  Only in this case he was followed by Skye racing at top speed, her blonde fur shiny and gleaming and a huge smile on her face that said,  “Wow, now this is living!”  Even that would have been a postcard scene in itself had it not been for me and my less than poised reaction.

I believe I screamed, possibly an expletive (wouldn’t you?), and then in slow motion I began to follow the two.  I could not get the message from my brain to my legs fast enough.  Nothing seemed to happen for a split second.  This was REALLY not good.  Have I said how fast squirrels can run?  Have I said how fast a dog can run who is chasing the squirrel?

Skye, Noooo!!!!  I seemed to get that out at least, but it too was in slow motion.
So off the three of us sprinted across the autumn meadow, squirrel in the lead followed not so closely by Skye, and last and very much falling behind, a clumsy, sprawling, tripping me.  I was hoping that no one else was present to witness this embarrassment. The birds on the fence seemed to be the only onlookers, enjoying watching me make a fool of myself, as most humans do when trying to outwit nature. They were the cheering fans at a playoff game and, trust me, they were not cheering for my dog or me!   As I passed by them I actually thought I heard what could only have been bird laughter in the stands.  In fact I’m sure I heard it!  I was fully aware of how foolish I looked, thank you very much.  Mr. Squirrel, on the other hand, seemed so confident and calm.  How could that be?  His life was at stake and yet I almost felt like he was toying with me.  I sensed he had done this on purpose, just for fun.  And it wasn’t the first time.  But at that point I had given up on dialogue with him.  I was out of breath.

As I ran hopelessly behind, I pulled out my cell phone to call the hotline. I knew I was going to need one of our tireless re-habbers.  How was I going to explain this?!  I was mortified at having to make this call.

Before I could come up with a REALLY good explanation that would assuage my guilt at having let this happen, both animals had made it to the next tree.
Mr. Squirrel bolted up the trunk, but he only ran up far enough so that when he turned around and pointed himself in the down position, he was eye-to-eye once again with Skye.  She was grinning ear to ear and he sat happily staring right back at her. They were so close they nearly touched noses.  Had this been a game?  Was I really seeing this happen in front of me?

Before I could make another move, the whole scene repeated itself.  Only this time he tricked her and made a very deliberate false start in one direction, thereby diverting her attention and then took off in the other. This put her at a serious disadvantage, but she caught up.  After a brief rest they took off again for a third time.  Each time he would sit calmly, nose to nose with her, and she would just wait. Just as I would finally reach the tree, off they would go again. Then I finally caught on.  He had done this on more than one occasion, and she knew it.  This was play.

While we think nothing of children or domestic animals playing and laughing, this was something I was grateful to have witnessed. Even wildlife need a day to forego the chores of survival.  Play is just one of those things we, as humans, forget is vital to survival. Theirs and ours.

All in all it ended happily for everyone involved. Thankfully. The squirrel eventually tired and went up to a nice wide branch and draped himself over it right above Skye’s head.  

I think he was smiling as he fell asleep while she dozed underneath him.

Author’s Note:  Please do not let your dogs chase squirrels or any other wildlife for fun. It is not advisable, can be very traumatic to wildlife, and can lead to serious injury. She would advise running from tree to tree for a great cardio work out however!