Squirrels are STILL Vermin

Yesterday I met Jamie Jean for coffee after my morning run with the sharks. (okay, okay, they're lawyers, but not sharky ones. I just love the mixed metaphor.) Anyway, the weather was lovely, so we chose to meet at a sidewalk cafe'. One of the other patrons had a baby squirrel perched on his shoulder. He explained that his neighbor's dog had dispatched the mama squirrel and other babies, and that he had saved this one, and was feeding it through an eyedropper and with fruit. He let me hold the squirrelet, which he had named Herman. It was adorable, promptly curling into the sleeve of my sweater and trying to nurse on my hand.

Though my heart was touched, I refuse to be swayed from my dislike of squirrels, especially the one that keeps jumping onto my birdfeeder and eating the seed. Annoyingly, I now wonder if it's a little squirrel mama with babies in the nest. Harrumph.

Fat Cat in a Little Bed

Django got in a fight about a week and a half ago (only 3 more days of twice daily antibiotic annoyed-cat-pill-stuffing!) Anyway, we took him to the vet with an infected rear paw that was cartoonishly huge. He was feeling so sorry for himself that I got sucked in and bought him the cat bed that he so clearly needed in order to convalesce properly. Unfortunately, it's considered something of a faux pas to try these things out in the store (as well as being a challenge), so I didn't find out until we got home that Django is a bit amply proportioned for the bed. Must be all the sweetened condensed milk. He seems to love his little bed, though, so I guess there's not really a problem.