So there’s this young male squirrel that hangs out on the deck.

Yes, I know he’s male. Believe me.

See, every time I see this squirrel, he’s been…ah…is that an acorn in your pocket or…? Well, you get my drift. Today he had located one of the un-sprouted bulbs in a flower pot, dug it up, and was chomping it happily on the railing, while…yeah. This is the fourth or fifth time in the last week, so I don’t think I’m just catching him at a bad time.

Actually, now that I think about it, I suppose it might not be the same squirrel each time. There’s only the one distinguishing characteristic, and I am generally doing my damnedest NOT to look at it. So in theory, it could be a parade of unrelated male squirrels that for some reason find my deck railing particularly erotic.

This is even more disturbing a thought, and I think I prefer the notion of a squirrel with some kind of urinary tract infection or whatever causes these things. (I could google something about “persistent erections in grey squirrels” but I fear where I might wind up, and anyway, I’ve already balked at spiking the food with antibiotics.) I realize that my yard is apparently staked out with the small-animal equivalents of “Ursula’s House ‘O Ill Repute! Free Seed & Suet Bar!” but this is a new level of exhibitionism on behalf of the squirrel population. *sigh*

In other news, I have a full bowl of reeses cups for any trick-or-treaters. We had none last year (the other people in the duplex have “Beware of Dog” signs) and I expect none this year, but if they showed up and I didn’t have any…well, the horror.