Another squirrel

Not a pet
London, ON, July 2007 [Click for an extremely large squirrel head]

When I was a munchkin, I had a weak spot for the animals who lived in the neighborhood. So for a spell, I would leave tupperware bowls of milk on the front landing for the stray cats. It didn't take long for them to set up shop under our front porch, mewling and baying until all hours of the night. Not pretty. Soon after that, my parents nicely asked me to end my feline milkman career.

Later on, I would leave nuts on the back deck for the squirrels. This lasted until the day that I was a little late getting home from school. My mother noticed a particularly aggressive squirrel attaching himself to the outside of the screen door. Apparently, he was hungry. Quite certainly, my mother was not pleased. They may look really sweet, but they're likely the most troublesome critters you'll ever meet. So like the cats before them, the squirrels were cut adrift.

These days, I take pictures of them instead. They're hellish to shoot because they move so damn fast. But once you get used to their rhythm, you stand a pretty good chance of bringing home something more or less in focus. At least that's what I convinced myself as I painstakingly followed this fellow around and tried to avoid freaking him out in the process.

Your turn: What should I name him? Why?