Daddy's Pet

Dad was entertained by the squirrels in his yard. He would sit on his back porch and watch them scurry through the limbs of the oaks and across the leafy lawn for hours. He had one in particular that he had befriended.

He even named it, calling him "Harry Lee" after an old friend of his.

In the evenings after dinner, Dad would leave a biscuit on the stump in the center of the yard. As soon as he was safely on the porch, Harry Lee would scamper down from the tree and perch on that stump. He would hold that biscuit in his tiny paws and munch away, never taking his eyes off Dad. Daddy would croon nonsense to him about what a good squirrel he was and how fat he was getting. When he finished the biscuit or packed away what he couldn't into his cheeks, Harry Lee would dip his head, shake his tail, and head back to the trees. This became a ritual, and when anyone visited, Dad was sure to show off his squirrel.

It was probably a week after Dad passed away, maybe two, we were there cleaning house, getting ready for the dreaded "Estate Sale", I stepped out onto the back porch for some air, only to find little Harry Lee sitting there on his stump. He was watching the house intently and sniffing the air like a hound dog. When he saw me step out, he chattered at me as if asking, "What in the world is going on here?" He sat there just staring at me until I was compelled to answer. "I'm sorry," I told him, as tears welled in my eyes, voice cracking, I said, " your buddy won't be leaving you anymore biscuits. He's gone..."

I swear to you that squirrel understood what I told him. He dropped down on all fours and just sat there with his head down, so still for the longest minute, then he looked back up at me, shook his fluffy tail, and headed for the trees. Halfway up the trunk of the oak, he paused, looking back at the house once again, then he was gone. I whispered, " Goodbye, Harry Lee," as he scampered out of sight up the tree.