I decided to go to D.C. and find one to interview.

If you are not already reeling from the incredible unraveling of events this year, then come along with me to Washington, D.C. where I have ventured, to try to get some understanding of how this current political election is going to turn out.

I have been watching the news a lot and, this year more than any previous year, have become aware of the squirrels on the white house lawn. As the words of ponderous, competing politicians play out, followed by their gaggle of attentive news reporters and their equally conflicting analyses, I found myself tuning them all out. When I did, I discovered the squirrels, happily scampering on the White House lawn behind them.

First I checked the news to make sure there weren’t any protests going on.

I decided to go to D.C. and find one to interview. After all, I have been raised in America, the land of talking animals. (think: Bambi, Dumbo, Mickey, Donald) First I checked the news to make sure there weren’t any protests going on.

I didn’t want to find myself in the middle of an Antifa-Proud Boys war.

I figured the squirrels must have some good off-camera tidbits to share and I would find them out. I took some peanut butter crackers with me because it seems all animals love peanut butter. I knew I couldn’t go crawling around on the White House lawn and I needed a good strong smell, too, to lure a squirrel to where I could conduct my interview. It took great patience and a supreme surrender of dignity, but eventually I found myself kneeling under an oak tree talking to a squirrel.

“Hi,” I said, with a peanut butter cracker extended before me, “I’m Grandpa Larry.”

The squirrel said, “Come a little bit closer.” I crawled forward, wiggling the cracker playfully.

“Can I ask you some questions?” I said.

He replied, “There’s something happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear.” Well, that certainly made sense. He probably had never talked to a human before, either.

I wanted to make sure he had been paying attention to the big house behind him, so I asked him, “Who is that guy who is always pacing on the porch of the White House behind the newscasters?”

“The executioner’s face is always well hidden,” he chirped, his tail in an interminable twitch.

“What’s it like, living this close to greatness?” I continued with my well-prepared questions.

“Like a bridge over troubled waters,” was his reply. He looked up at me and seemed to smile.

“Do squirrels have political opinions,” I asked.

“Do squirrels have political opinions,” I asked.

“I’ve looked at life from both sides now,” he squeaked.

I thought the interview was going quite well, even though I wasn’t sure what most of his answers meant. “Are you ever worried that someone may come along and capture you?” I asked.

All he had to say to that one was, “I shall be released.”

I dropped the cracker and he grabbed it and ran off, his fluffy tail aloft.

All of a sudden, I realized he was responding to all my questions with song lyrics, so I told him so. I had found him out. He looked me straight in the eye and darted forward and bit my finger. I dropped the cracker and he grabbed it and ran off, his fluffy tail aloft.

“Hey, you bushy-tailed rat,” I yelled. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Did you ever hear a squirrel laugh?

 – GRANDPA LARRY, Hashtag Lewisburg City Paper. November 2020. (based on true events in a forest somewhere in the Midwest with a chipmunk) Find this column and more of Grandpa Larry’s writings at sinksgrovepress.wordpress.com.