My treat-loving squirrel must be resting the last few days. I see no imaginary tiny hats on a furry head, no one scampers across the skinny neighbour’s garage roof. The tree is empty of more than just it’s leaves, with the resident beast not out or about, not resting on the big branches. His/her part of the parade past my window has changed, tilted slightly. M. Squirrel is… absent. There are no further daily mysteries to report upon. I have no dried out cookies or doughnuts at my doorstep today, none yesterday. I am concerned.
I would call the authorities, excepting that my understanding is they will not search for and I may not report one gone missing for at least 48 hours after the event.
It seems that %90 of missing squirrels return on their own within a 48 hour time period. According to the cops, It’s true of people as well. The men and women in blue (or red blazers and funny hats, depending)may have a point when they caution that creatures slip out of their habits occasionally. I had an uncle who disappeared for days, months at a time every little once in a while. He went to Chicago sometimes, to Florida once. Maybe M. Squirrel is in Chicago? That must be it. M. does not need to go to Florida, he hasn’t gone bankrupt and won’t be able to take advantage of the quite liberal property laws there. I read that in Florida, Jared and Ivanka may keep their primary residence safe from creditors. It doesn’t matter how lavish or pricey the primary residence is, the creditors may not seize it. M. Squirrel could have a primary residence there, too, if it were necessary. It is not. M. has no issue with the banks, being quite independant and frugal. He may act ‘squirrelly’ the way J. and I. do, but he is a much more careful manager. He stays off twitter and out of the newspapers.
I do worry about M. Squirrel and hope he hasn’t gone off to some sort of rendezvous with accident. Such alignments are our fate as living creatures (and I consider myself of that ilk). Accident abounds, waits in the bushes for us. Accident drives too fast down our little laneway and catches up with it’s title. (Bear that in mind, new renters! I see you Zooming by my window!) That is just part of it. Though we are each integral to the scheme and important in our own ways, accidents do happen. We go missing for 48hours, sometimes for more. Sometimes the missing part is permanent. There are folks who blame God when accidents happen but I don’t. God didn’t create accidents – read your bible. He created the heavens and the earth and all the walkers, crawlers, swimmers and birds of the air but there wasn’t a mention of accident. I don’t even think that Satan created accidents. Accidents are called accidents for a reason – they happen by accident. God may smite you or Satan may get you to sign a contract but it won’t be an accident. I have been smitten, I have signed contracts and I know.
Poor M. Squirrel. If something untoward has happened, I don’t know what I would do without him. He is a part of the story of my laneway neighbourhood. He is a part of the ‘fabric’ as they say. This entire ‘fabric’ is called Otton Lane but might as well be called ‘Sesame Street’. I say ‘Sesame Street’ because M. Squirrel used to leave a sesame seed bagel on my window sill every little once in a while. At first, I thought it was possibly a gift from the ‘Mayor’. A gift meant to erase hard feelings between us. A gift meant to say, “I apologize for doing a Google search and analysis of you and telling the other neighbours what to do”. It wasn’t. I discovered this recently. One day, I caught M. Squirrel banging a hardened sesame bagel on the brick to break off a piece for lunch. He was making more noise than the Mayor claimed I was. The sound made was a curious tapping, or rapping, somewhere near my front door and I went to check. It was M. I miss that irritating sound already and it hasn’t been more than 48 hours.
M. Squirrel is(was) one of many creature characters here. There are other similarities, like that, to the TV version of Sesame Street. For example, M. and some of the others here have fur, notably Skinny Shirtless Guy with his little beard, but none have blue fur. None have yellow feathers and stand six feet tall. None are green with webbed feet. As well, only M. Squirrel eats/ate cookies messily. There is no person or thing named Bert and none Ernie. I should say that with reservation because I haven’t learned the name of Skinny Shirtless Guy or Mysterious Sneaky Slouching Guy. Either of them could be a Bert or an Ernie. Lastly, there is me. Though I am not on the TV version of Sesame street, I am here. I direct things from my seat by the window. I make up little stories about the folks and beasts, their trials, tribulations, successes.
Here on ‘Sesame Street/Otton Lane’, I am the only resident celebrity. I am the famous writer who can’t get published and can’t get book tours anymore, so I live here. The people who watch ‘Otton Lane’ don’t know who I am though I am still famous. The producers say I lend an air of ‘respectability’ to the proceedings. There are times I invite another celebrity over to sing a couple songs about the letter Z…(that’s not true. I do have celebrities over but I can’t figure out how to get them to play or sing. I am working on that. I think they probably want to be paid.) When my celebrity friends are here, we tell stories to each other so the people watching can learn about M. Squirrel and M. Pussaycat. It eases the monotony of singing, “A – a deer a female deer. B – a drop of golden sun…” for them. Plus, we aren’t supposed to sing anymore.
If I think about it, I suppose M. Squirrel could have legitimate, unrelated to accident reasons for being absent. Under the latest Covid restrictions, M. might be in quarantine. That explains his absence. He/she must be watching Netflix and eating the bagel or cookies or doughnuts alone. Next time he is out and about, I bet he weighs more than I do. We will have a weighing-in contest. He will get on the scale, then I will. The first one of us to cause the scale to make a creaking noise wins. I can hardly wait for the 48 hours to be up so that I can report M. missing, if he still is.
Robert On The Air 