The humans in my house are staying indoors.
I am irked; this limits the time I pole vault from the kitchen cabinets onto the dining table. Even worse, I am unable to perfect my system for body-slamming the cabinet where they store my treats. I am afraid I will lose my ability to shred bathroom tissue as a surprise for them.
Watching the birds and squirrels from the patio window is boring. If you’ve seen one squirrel, you’ve seen them all. That’s what I believed until the humans turned on the television.
I have concluded the orange creature I wrote about previously must be some sort of squirrel. Although he has the marks of a raccoon with white moons around his eyes, he behaves more like a squirrel.
The orange squirrel stands in front of a human with white hair who never smiles, but his head bobs up and down vigorously when the orange squirrel speaks. I hope he finds a cure for his malady soon. Constant head bobbing must be very painful.
The humans do not like it when the orange squirrel appears on television. One of them shouted at the orange squirrel about an action he ought to inflict upon himself, and screamed for Alexa to turn off the television.
I will surf the net to see if I can find a definition for this action.