Peanut’s Saturday Diary: The Squirrel War Resumes

The squirrels were at it again this morning. Emma, blissfully ignorant, sipped her tea as if this were just another Saturday. She typed away on her little blog, acting like life was calm and peaceful. Meanwhile, above us, the squirrels were plotting. I saw it in their beady eyes and the twitch of their tails. And then it began—acorns and twigs raining down on Emma’s head. She thinks it’s “nature.” She even laughed and wore a hat. A hat! As if millinery can protect you in wartime. Bless her. She has no idea she’s sitting in the crossfire.

I know better. This isn’t random. This could be the restart of the Squirrel War. Yes, the ancient battle between dogs and squirrels—the war they’ve been fighting for centuries. Dogs protect the ground; squirrels rule the trees. They drop their weapons—nuts, twigs, sometimes worse—hoping to catch us off guard. But I see it. I always see it.

We had a short reprieve, but the squirrels have been getting bolder. They don’t run away as quickly when I chase them anymore. I can feel them watching me, calculating, waiting. Amateur tactics won’t work against me.

They want the yard; I defend it. They want the bird feeder; I take my post beneath it. They want to break Emma’s spirit by pelting her until she retreats indoors. But no—I will not allow it.

Speaking of legendary encounters… did I ever tell you about the time Chewy bit a squirrel in half? True story. Several moons ago, back when Skye and Cruise lived here and Chewy was still alive. Cruise was always messing with the squirrels—he didn’t follow Chewy’s strategy at all. He fancied himself a vigilante, thinking he could handle them solo. One day, hewas sparring with a squirrel when it  latched onto his face with its mouth around his nose. Chaos ensued. Skye grabbed the squirrel’s hindquarters and started pulling; I gave Cruise moral support with my encouraging barks—“Hang in there, young warrior!” And then—legendary moment—Chewy appeared from nowhere and bit the squirrel in half. Blood everywhere, but Cruise was free. Chewy was furious with Cruise, Cruise was embarrassed, and I… I observed, gave moral support, and confirmed once again that Chewy was a tactical genius.

So yes, the squirrels may be bold today, but I am prepared. Emma has her hat, the backyard is my stage, and I am vigilant. The squirrels may drop acorns, twigs, or worse, but this war has a clear leader: me. And when I bark, strategize, and glare from my sunny throne, they know—the ground is ours.

Later, I’ll head to Becky’s, and Brutus will be briefed on tactics. He likes to strut and puff, which is fine—every soldier has his role, and for once, his barky attitude might be useful. Him on the ground and me as commander-in-chief? The squirrels won’t stand a chance. And while Emma goes to Bloomington tomorrow, I’ll stay home, keeping watch, napping in sunspots, and plotting the next moves. The Squirrel War continues. I will not be caught off guard.

At the park this week, I scoped out potential recruits. The Australian Shepherd? Too jittery. He’d chase shadows while the squirrels slipped past. The black Lab, though—calm, friendly, reliable. He’d make a solid soldier. If things escalate, I may need to enlist him. The others? Nice tails, no discipline. Not war material.