amongst the treetops

Squirrels were busy rustling about in the treetops Sunday morning, visible, as they were, from the bay window of our second story guest room. The same room that also houses a wall of fabric and a closet full of sweaters, all waiting to be turned into goodness knows what, which is why I was there in the first place. Picking fabrics and sweaters to cut up, all while tiny chumley wondered why we had not immediately ventured downstairs as we do most days when we finally get up and start our day.

Baxter was blissfully unaware of all the treetop rodent commotion, mostly because in this bedroom, tiny chumley is deprived of his usual scenic view. Stand by this bay window, and all my stubby legged little friend can see is the yellow paint on the drywall staring before him.

By the looks of the scattered dirt I could see on the deck, I could tell that the squirrels had messed with pot of new grass we planted the other day. Tossing tiny chumley's little sprouts wrecklessly about, as if there wasn't already enough food around with the bird feeder freshly filled for them to plunder. It was time to teach these squirrels a lesson. Mess with this little boy's grass will ya? Soon you will know that no place is safe from the kielbasa. Not even the treetops.

I gave tiny chumley a lift onto the bed, expecting he would easily spy his prey and add barking chorus to the cicada song already under way. A cacophonous warning to the squirrels that would scare them into thinking that tiny chumley had truly grown as high as the treetops.

But alas, despite my best cajoling, Baxter would have none of it. He hunkered down, peering out, looking down outside for any sign of the squirrels in places he had already become accustomed to seeing them. The ground. The deck. The birdfeeder. But not the treetops.

Treetops, apparently, are for birds, and if there is something moving in the tree and Baxter didn't chase it up there, then it is a bird and Baxter must leave it alone. Such are the rules that this dachshund lives by, such is the law of this boy's land. And so he happily surveyed his backyard atop three cushy pillows, while squirrels scampered around in the treetops on what was our Sunday morning.