This story is for Ron. (Read his comment on my previous post and you’ll see why.)
I was trying to learn how to juggle, so I kept three small balls in my living room to practice with. One day I noticed that one of the balls was missing. I looked everywhere for it, but it was totally gone. When you live alone, this kind of thing rattles you, because there is no one to blame it on and you wonder if you are starting to go a bit loopy.
Then one day a squirrel poked her nose through the door to open it. She looked at me and proceeded to sneak to the table where I kept my two remaining balls. Sure enough, she grabbed one and dragged it across the floor and out to the garden.
Mystery solved! I had my culprit! I ran out to the garden after her, and gently but firmly took hold of part of the ball. For a good half minute the two of us engaged in a tug-of-war. “Gimme that!” But she would NOT let go–she WANTED that ball!
Finally, I managed to wrest the ball out of her mouth. She looked at me like I was such a spoilsport bully. Suddenly I felt so guilty. Here I was, maybe 200 times her size, yet she defended her new trophy with unbending valor. What bravery! And what a mean miser was I! Couldn’t I have just let her have the ball?
After all, if you were up against someone that much bigger, would you really mount such a David and Goliath struggle as that little squirrel did?