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Where We Left Off:
A tragedy occurred in Oliver’s patio when another dead bird was discovered.
One, Maybe Two, Ways Out:
During the windy days of November, Gus, Oliver, and I spotted a tuft of fluffy fur in different locations. It was nearly weightless and carried easily on the air until one morning wet snow anchored it down. We found it again on a Sunday. While I tried to bag this evidence, half of the tuft blew off my fingers. I watched the wind pull it away from me. At least I had some of it left for an investigation.
We haven’t had a lot of time with the Eastern grey squirrels this year. Is it because more red squirrels were born last year? Is it because there are less trees? Is it because the free-roaming cat population seems to have doubled? The grey squirrels used to be actively part of our adventures.
Gus and Ollie didn’t find much information on the fur using their olfactory skills. Oliver said he loved how soft it was on his nose. He would love a toy made from such fur.
We had to take this sample back to the offices before we could search for witnesses. Further analysis of the tuft of fur didn’t reveal any blood.
“Hmmm,” Oliver hummed. “Can we be sure this was a violent attack?”
“I know I love chasing squirrels. I’m sure the stray cats and foxes would too. What else would it be, Ollie?” Gus jumped up to the penthouse of the cardboard fort.
The penthouse is what I call the roof. The top floor is Gus’ tavern decorated with wildlife photos and a pineapple toy. The bottom floor is Ollie’s office which is the most decorated and generally the one that gets trashed regularly when they chase either other.
Ollie required some treats. His favorite human said he’s addicted. I try to limit him to three treats at a time. I crush them a little with my fingers because Oliver tends to swallow them without chewing. He gets more than three when he goes out on patrol. This has become an issue because now all he wants to do is snack and not work. I can relate all too well.
“Check the surveillance cameras as usual, but I have an idea,” he said after finishing his smashed freeze-dried chicken cubes.
“How else would so much hair get ripped out of a squirrel’s tail?” I put the jar of treats back into the drawer hoping that having them out of sight would keep Gus and Ollie focused on work.
Ollie began to act out the frenetic movements of a squirrel. He used the room’s furniture as substitutions for rocks, vines, and trees.
“What if the squirrel, typically an excitable animal, ran across the rocks. Then it jumped to a thick vine and went up and over branches. It descended a tree trunk and scampered under the bristly bushes until it got to the Big Rock.” Oliver jumped from chair to floor to bed back down then up to a shelf and flew to the floor. He made a hard turn and bolted under bed, sailing out the other side in less than a second. “After the Big Rock, it went through more bushes to the smaller rocks, cross the gravel, jumped up the cinder blocks because sometimes you leave seeds there.” He looked at me. “It smelled that the chipmunks have been carrying seeds under the building so it went under the wooden pallets, through more prickly, dead weeds until reaching a hole.”
“And then?” Gus had kept his eyes on his wildly moving cousin the whole time.
“What do you mean, and then? All that action? All those prickly, bristly, irritating things? Fur could get caught on any of it!” Ollie stopped about three feet away from me and yelled.
That performance did deserve another treat and some catnip. He went into his office space and assumed a cat loaf position.
Just in case the fur hadn’t been pulled out during the squirrel’s natural activities, I pulled up the thumbnail views of the cameras from that week. There were definitely multiple cat sightings that week. None of the footage, however, showed any of the cats with a prey animal in their possession. The tuxedo we call Savile was hunting all along the northern border. Other cats were seen close to the house even on the front porch! We could not believe the chutzpah.
“This tuft of fur is indicative of being at the end of a tail, not the base.” I had the evidence under a weighted magnifying glass so it wouldn’t get blown by the fan.
“Someone could have easily tried to swat with an overhand paw,” Gus demonstrated, “and if they had been too far behind the target, their claws would have only caught the fur and not the actual tail or hind end.”
“I think we have our explanation,” I said. “And our most likely suspect.”
Accidental or Near Miss Attack?
Case Findings:
In the middle of November, we found a tuft of Eastern grey squirrel fur blowing in the wind. Some of it was able to be bagged and taken in for analysis. The evidence told us that the animal wasn’t harmed much, a little loss of fur and probably some emotional fright. A stray tabby; the Gus look-a-like called Bud; and the tuxedo Savile—were seen in the vicinity around the date of the evidence collection. Savile showed up on certain cameras that proved he had been hunting where the squirrels live. This was one of the easiest cases we’ve had in a long time.
Case Status: Closed