That's right. No name for this guy. Just like the time, years ago, when a cat came up the hill to our home in California.
"Don't give him a name," I said to my wife. "We don't need another pet--we can't get attached--he'll wander off somewhere else after awhile."
Well, "Cat," was with us till he died at the ripe old age of fourteen.
Not that "Squirrel" is another "Cat." I came to really like Cat because he thought he was a dog. He came when he was called and was really eager to please. If he saw you were having a bad day he was right in your lap with a comforting purr.
Squirrel, is another story. His favorite thing in the whole world is to wait until I head for the point after a long day--drink and snack in one hand and newspaper in the other--to take my usual place on the lounge. Then squirrel climbs high into the tree tops which arc over the point, and spends his time pelting me with acorns. Now, it could be that he's trying to be helpful, knowing that my snacks are not that good for me--but I kind of think it's squirrel humor. So I tolerate squirrel--but no more than that--honestly--it's not like Cat--I think.
