We have lots of squirrels where I live: black ones, gray ones, brown ones, and mixed colors like black with a brown tail. It makes sense since I also live in an area with lots of nut-producing trees, such as walnut and oak. Squirrels are interesting to watch unless you’re a dog, and in that case, they are your archnemesis.

Part of the problem is that the squirrels are pretty used to people and dogs, so they aren’t particularly concerned when we begin to walk toward them. For the dogs, “lunge toward them” might be more accurate. I have read that squirrels talk smack to dogs in a way that we can’t hear, and by the reactions of my two dogs, I almost believe that’s true. The dogs bark and pull against their leashes in an attempt to chase, perhaps kill, the offenders. Sometimes I have allowed them to chase the squirrels a little with me running behind them like the quarterback who knows she won’t get a touchdown but maybe a first down. It doesn’t placate much, however, because the next time we’re out, the squirrels continue their disinterested nut-hunting while my dogs bark and charge like maniacs. The dogs haven’t learned that they will never, ever win in their desire to rid our yard, or our village, of squirrels. In their quest to alter reality, these dogs take after their adopted mother: me.

I also have certain pet peeves that will never be resolved, at least not in the way I would like. I’m trying to “sit,” metaphorically speaking, in the discomfort of not having reality be the way I want it. These “squirrels” drive me crazy, but maybe that’s because I think I might have a chance to change or remove these irritants. But I’m noticing that so far, I’ve been unsuccessful, so I’m trying to get used to these squirrels. I don’t think they are going anywhere.