I have a story to tell you.
Yesterday, the dear DDH invited me to join him and some coworkers for lunch at a restaurant near my office.
This was awesome, because I never go out for lunch with people and I love that the DDH does and also I enjoyed eating fried chicken and potato chips with dip that clearly has crack as one of the main ingredients, it's so addictive.
But that's not the story.
This is the story:
I was walking back through the neighborhood to my car, enjoying the beautiful fall day--sunny, 68, breezy.
As I was walking, I saw a little dog walk down to the edge of a yard and look out over the sidewalk.
"OMG," I squealed inside my head. "That is the tiiiiiiiniest adorable poodle ever! It's like a cross between a poodle and a chihuahua maybe, with its tiny fluffy head and neck and smooth little body and stubby little legs. Squee!"
I took a few more steps, watching the poodle, admiring its miniscule adorableness.
Then it moved in a strange and unpoodlelike way.
"WTF is wrong with that dog?!" I said (luckily only in my head).
A few more steps.
The poodle scampered away.
Because it wasn't a poodle. Or a chihuaha. Or even a dog.
It was a freaking squirrel, y'all.
The "poodle's" fluffy head and neck were actually the squirrel's tail, and its smooth body was a squirrel's body, and its tiny chihuahua legs were actually squirrel legs.
This is an old, tree-filled neighborhood in midtown Tulsa. There are millions of squirrels everywhere. Why on earth, upon seeing a small brown animal, did I think it was an impossibly tiny poodle-chihuahua cross that probably does not even exist instead of a perfectly normal common brown squirrel?
Clearly I need new glasses.