One day last year I get ready to go outside, look for my hat. I knew I left it around here somewhere. No luck finding it in the house, so I look outdoors, sure as heck, there's my Stetson Crusher laying out on the lawn:

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This young feller is the culprit. He takes things outside when we leave or he thinks we're going to, separation anxiety I guess. He doesn't chew stuff up as much as when younger, just makes us go looking:

giving his best "why you lookin' at me" look:

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I never had a camera handy to catch the stuff this little one did. She loved to eat my wife's books or magazines left around when she went to work. Her shoes were a handy substitute. She also had a particular fondness for my leather goods, the ends of belts and once a sheath for an old Sharpfinger knife. Lucky she didn't hurt herself on that one as the knife was still in the sheath:

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Geno


The desert is a true treasure for him who seeks refuge from men and the evil of men.
In it is contentment
In it is death and all you seek
(Quoted from "The Bleeding of the Stone" Ibrahim Al-Koni)

member of the cabal of dysfunctional squirrels?