Squirrelly

***Bernie burying a bone. St. Paul, September 2004***

That's squirrel-ly. Properly spelled, as in the headline, it looks ridiculous, doesn't it?

One day, and this had to be in the spring of 1995 or so, when Bernie was just over a year old (note: I lived in seven different dwellings the first three years I was in Tahoe, so I have a difficult time remembering exactly when I lived anywhere!), her and I piled in my Saab to run some errands. I guess Poochie was in the car too, I don't recall. So we're about a half mile up Kingsbury Grade, which means a half mile up from lake level, sitting at an intersecting road waiting to turn onto Kingsbury, to go home to Elizabeth and my "mansion." Finally, a break in the traffic, so I stepped on the gas, took a right turn, and heard a ruckus from the back seat. I turned around just in time to see Bernie leaping out of the rear window, while my bitchin' Saab was in full driving mode.

She was chasing a ground squirrel. 

She landed fine, raced across Kingsbury, which is a main mountain pass road, thus busy, and ran for it through a parking lot. From the day she was born till the day she died, Bernie had no concept of the power and threat of automobiles.

Have you ever played with mercury? Kids, don't try that at home, but most people 30+ have had some giggles squishing mercury in science class. It's like this uncatchable mass, can't be tamed. Well, that was what Bernie was like the first, oh, eight years of her life. At this point, she was only 1 plus some, and there was no use--I couldn't catch her. She pretty much stayed in the same (huge) parking lot, though, so I'd drive along side her saying, "Bernie wanna go for a ride? Bernie wanna go for a ride? Dammit, Bernie, get into the car!" Her big floppy ears would perk up, her head would tilt to the side as she looked into my eyes and listened to my cries--then she'd bolt off again.

I love dogs.

This went on for a couple hours, at least. Finally, though, she surrendered, jumping into the Saab. She never caught the squirrel and never rode with the car window completely down again until she was about 13 years old and had lost 25 percent of the strength in her rear legs.

I'll post a pic when I get home.