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Authors: Vivian Vande Velde
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bark, twigsâhoping to find a piece of something tasty that I might have overlooked.
After I pick up what I suspect may be the same walnut shell Iâve examined three times already, I toss it outside.
The wind blows it back in, and it bounces off my head.
I look out from the hole in my tree.
The snow covers all the branches of all the trees. On the ground, it has piled up higher than I am tall. Sometimes, when snow is crisp, I can walk on it. Other times, when snow is fluffy, I sink down into it. Whichever kind of snow this is, my paws are going to get cold.
Then I notice the house where the dog lives. I remember the dog saying, âToo bad for you that you have to be outside in the cold.â
I realize the dog was inviting me in. Thatâs because everybody loves squirrels. Even the dog. He just sometimes gets excitable.
I have to remember my manners. I will invite the dog to come visit me.
Not that he can climb my tree. Or squeeze through the hole. Or fit in my nest.
But it will still be polite to ask.
After Iâve visited him.
The house has three doors. Two of them are at ground level and are people-sized, but the third is obviously meant for squirrels. It is squirrel-sized, and it is on the roof with easy access via tree. The squirrel door is actually thefinest of the three, as it has a grand brick entryway. This entryway goes straight down from the roof right into the heart of the house. Sometimes smoke and heat come out of this roofy doorway, but on this day the man who lives with the dog has not turned on the smoke and heat. As though the dogâs words werenât enough, this is a clear signal that the man, also, wants me to come in.
People LOVE squirrels. They put feeders out, just for us, high up off the ground so the dogs canât reach them. Sometimes birds eat our food, but we squirrels know itâs been put out for us, not them, because of the playgrounds so many people build around our feeders, with rides for sliding and swinging and spinning on. The birds donât use the rides; they only eat the food.
And now both man and dog have invited me in. I canât wait to see what wonders they have prepared for me Inside.
Running fast so that my toes donât get cold, I leap from branch to branch until Iâm above the roof. I jump, but my toes must be colder than I thought, and I donât go as far onto the roof as I expected, and the roof is icy, so I slip down toward the edge.
My paws scrabble for something so I wonât fall off,and I catch hold of the metal squirrel ride thingy that most people have all around the edge of their roofs. On rainy days, these things fill with water for slipping and sliding around in, and at the corners of the house, they form slides down to the ground. Itâs a lot of fun to go down these water slides. The people should build some for themselves. On this cold day the squirrel ride thingy is filled with snow, not water. Still, itâs good for catching hold of.
With a squeal, the whole thing pulls away from the roof. The man really should have built it better: I could have gotten hurt! But all is fine. Iâm able to scramble back onto the roof and up the outside of the brick entryway to the squirrel door. I sit on the edge and look down. Iâm far up, but I can see Inside.
Inside
The brick entry hall that leads down from the squirrel door on the roof is very long. It is also very dark. Not to mention steep. Some of the bricks are slippery because of the soot and ash from when the man makes fire. But Iâm very sure-footed.
Until all that soot and ash makes me sneeze.
Then I go down the last bit quite quickly. Not falling. But quickly.
I land on pieces of a cut-apart tree at the bottom. Obviously this is the manâs attempt to re-create mytree that is Outside here Inside. It is his way of saying, âWelcome, Twitch.â
For a few moments I canât see because of the big black cloud of soot and ash
After I pick up what I suspect may be the same walnut shell Iâve examined three times already, I toss it outside.
The wind blows it back in, and it bounces off my head.
I look out from the hole in my tree.
The snow covers all the branches of all the trees. On the ground, it has piled up higher than I am tall. Sometimes, when snow is crisp, I can walk on it. Other times, when snow is fluffy, I sink down into it. Whichever kind of snow this is, my paws are going to get cold.
Then I notice the house where the dog lives. I remember the dog saying, âToo bad for you that you have to be outside in the cold.â
I realize the dog was inviting me in. Thatâs because everybody loves squirrels. Even the dog. He just sometimes gets excitable.
I have to remember my manners. I will invite the dog to come visit me.
Not that he can climb my tree. Or squeeze through the hole. Or fit in my nest.
But it will still be polite to ask.
After Iâve visited him.
The house has three doors. Two of them are at ground level and are people-sized, but the third is obviously meant for squirrels. It is squirrel-sized, and it is on the roof with easy access via tree. The squirrel door is actually thefinest of the three, as it has a grand brick entryway. This entryway goes straight down from the roof right into the heart of the house. Sometimes smoke and heat come out of this roofy doorway, but on this day the man who lives with the dog has not turned on the smoke and heat. As though the dogâs words werenât enough, this is a clear signal that the man, also, wants me to come in.
People LOVE squirrels. They put feeders out, just for us, high up off the ground so the dogs canât reach them. Sometimes birds eat our food, but we squirrels know itâs been put out for us, not them, because of the playgrounds so many people build around our feeders, with rides for sliding and swinging and spinning on. The birds donât use the rides; they only eat the food.
And now both man and dog have invited me in. I canât wait to see what wonders they have prepared for me Inside.
Running fast so that my toes donât get cold, I leap from branch to branch until Iâm above the roof. I jump, but my toes must be colder than I thought, and I donât go as far onto the roof as I expected, and the roof is icy, so I slip down toward the edge.
My paws scrabble for something so I wonât fall off,and I catch hold of the metal squirrel ride thingy that most people have all around the edge of their roofs. On rainy days, these things fill with water for slipping and sliding around in, and at the corners of the house, they form slides down to the ground. Itâs a lot of fun to go down these water slides. The people should build some for themselves. On this cold day the squirrel ride thingy is filled with snow, not water. Still, itâs good for catching hold of.
With a squeal, the whole thing pulls away from the roof. The man really should have built it better: I could have gotten hurt! But all is fine. Iâm able to scramble back onto the roof and up the outside of the brick entryway to the squirrel door. I sit on the edge and look down. Iâm far up, but I can see Inside.
Inside
The brick entry hall that leads down from the squirrel door on the roof is very long. It is also very dark. Not to mention steep. Some of the bricks are slippery because of the soot and ash from when the man makes fire. But Iâm very sure-footed.
Until all that soot and ash makes me sneeze.
Then I go down the last bit quite quickly. Not falling. But quickly.
I land on pieces of a cut-apart tree at the bottom. Obviously this is the manâs attempt to re-create mytree that is Outside here Inside. It is his way of saying, âWelcome, Twitch.â
For a few moments I canât see because of the big black cloud of soot and ash
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