Once upon a time, in a far away town in south Georgia, there was a great big storm, and a bunch of baby squirrels were knocked out of a fig tree in my husband’s front yard.
Naturally, his parents took one of the baby squirrels in and tried to domesticate it. They named him Eddie, and my father-in-law built a cage for him, and sometimes they even let Eddie run around the house and perch himself on their shoulders.
Until one day when Eddie bit my mother-in-law on the neck. Then they released Eddie back into the wild, where he belonged.
To this day, whenever we are sitting on our screened-in porch and we hear a rustling in the trees, my husband stops what he’s doing, and very quietly whispers, “Eddie? Is that you?”