Squirrel came to us as a kitten.

Friends had found the wild tiger boy in the woods. Because we live on a farm, they called to see if we might be interested in him. At the time we only had two cats living here, so we agreed to take him.

He was feisty -- a little monster in fact. He would puff and arch and posture at everything on legs, two or four. Over time, he became used to us and even grew to love the attention.

Then came his teenage years. No animal was safe from Squirrel. He would pounce on the dogs, he would grab our legs as we walked past the chair he perched on, but his favorite activity of all was harassing Skeeter. Skeeter is a twelve-year-old Siamese who came to live on the farm late in life. Prior to that he had been an only pet and an indoor one at that.

The past few months have been filled with Squirrel attacks and poor Skeeter has taken the brunt of it. It seemed as if Squirrel would never tire of harassing, haranguing, and causing chaos. Skeeter, on the other hand, is a mellow old guy who really loves nothing more than meditating for lengthy sessions in front of one of the various heaters in the house. We began to wonder if peace would ever reign in the house again.

Then came the turning point.

Skeeter had gotten himself in a fix. In a moment of Siamese passion, he attacked a strange dog and the dog put him promptly up a tree. There sat old Skeet, a good twenty feet up on the first branch. Then it started to sleet. What a day for our heater-worshipping kitty to get himself in such a fix. We thought, "Surely he'll come down now." But no, there he sat, mewing and crying, and turning from one side to the other, staring down the trunk of that tree.

We brought out a can of cat food, pulling back the tab to let out the familiar "whoosh" sound that usually brings him running. It brought the excited meows, but he just couldn't bring himself to come down that tree. This was going to be a long afternoon.

We ran out to run a quick errand, hoping that surely Skeeter would come down and would slip through the cat door back into the safety of his warm house.

When we got back we looked immediately to the tree. Not only was Skeeter in the tree, but Squirrel was too. "Oh no" we said, "let's hope Squirrel doesn't knock him off that branch."

But Squirrel had other plans. He meowed a bit to Skeeter, then like a telephone lineman going down a pole, Squirrel backed down the tree, tail end first. When he reached the bottom, he crouched, his head craned upwards to watch Skeeter. For a few moments Skeeter explored his branch, then ever so slowly he positioned himself as Squirrel had. Within a few moments, Skeeter, with a look of abject terror on his face, scooted down the tree following Squirrel's example. When he reached the bottom he shook himself all over and Squirrel, who had not moved from his watchful position until that moment, came rushing over to sniff him. Then turning, Squirrel led the old guy towards his humans and the open door. Once Skeeter was safely inside, Squirrel turned and bounded across the yard.

That darn cat had showed Skeeter how to climb down the tree!

Squirrel had grown up. Our adolescent terror had become a loving and concerned friend to a tired old man. Skeeter still seems grateful to him, and Squirrel goes a little easier on him these days. But Squirrel hasn't stopped with Skeeter. Another kitten, in the very image of Squirrel, was dumped off at our farm. Squirrel found her a warm place to sleep in the barn, and alerted us humans to her presence. He checks on her often and greets her with kisses and rubs. When he enters the barn he calls to her as a mother would. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he leads her in through the cat door right onto the bed.

Our little Squirrel has gone from wild child, to teenage hoodlum, to caring gentle friend. We are blessed to have him on our farm.

Copyright © Jennifer Robinson