Sunday, June 12, 2016

Seasonal Complaint

The following post is written by my friend Debbie Fickett-Wilbar. We went to Middle School together. She had the most perfect handwriting and she was a voracious reader. She once basically dared me to read "Gone With the Wind" because I pooh-poohed it. (I went home and read it in a weekend. It was much better than I expected.)


Debbie and I found each other again on Facebook and have been enjoying a new-found friendship as adults. She has a granddaughter. I have a blog. Her granddaughter is undeniably cuter than my blog. When I read this yesterday I immediately asked permission to run it as a guest post. Although it was written in New Hampshire and not locally, I think it will still connect with folks in Howard County, Maryland. Enjoy!




Dear small animals who hang out in my yard,

I do not begrudge you an occasional strawberry, a carrot, or a radish. But, taking a single bite out of each and every strawberry the night before I predict they will be ripe is unacceptable. For all that is Holy, just pick a strawberry and eat the whole darn thing.

I’ve lived here 9 years and have always tried to protect you. I don’t use pesticides, I don’t use fertilizer. I’ve bought a special skimmer so that, if you fall in the pool, you have a good chance of escaping. When one of you fell down my chimney, we paid to have someone rescue you. I keep an eye on your homes when you go on vacation.

But, YOU aren’t being good neighbors!

This morning you broke the last straw. You picked the first strawberry of the season that was starting to ripen. Seriously?!? I’ve been waiting for that since last summer! I saw one of you Chipmucks running across my yard. If I could have caught up with you, I suspect I would have smelled strawberry on your breath.

That’s it. You are no longer welcome to take reasonable amounts of food from my garden. You are no longer invited to any parties in our back yard. I’ll no longer pick up your mail or feed your pets. If you are prepared to apologize and stop your behavior, I’ll reconsider.

Chipmunks have Facebook accounts, right?


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