I’ve told Whitey that it’s not safe to hand-feed the squirrels.
Yet, he keeps buying them peanuts and loading them up every morning. I have to admit, it’s amusing to watch. He stands outside and clicks his tongue to “call” them, and has even named them “The Big Stromboli” and “The Little Calzone”.
This morning, “Stromboli” tried to take off with Whitey’s finger clamped firmly in his mouth. I heard a muffled cry from where I was in the house, and by the time Whitey ran inside, the blood was flowing furiously from his fingertip.
“He got me!” he yelled. “Little bastard attacked me! Grab the peroxide! I need stitches!”
He went on to tell me that the rodent had dragged him 3-feet in the air by his finger, and now that the squirrel has tasted human blood, he’ll never be satisfied with just nuts.
The bite was a big one; really deep, too. We cleaned it out as best we could, and wrapped it tightly. He’s been pouting all morning about it throbbing.
Hey Whitey – I Told You So.