Just about every morning I stop in front of the house and wave goodbye to everyone whether there’s a person standing in the window or not (and, thankfully, there usually is).
Yesterday I stopped in the road and threw kisses and waved goodbye. When I looked away from the window I saw a chipmunk sitting upright on the front porch. It looked as if it was waving its little arms.
Normally, I’d think something like this was cute; a little woodland creature sending me off to work in some sort of Disneyesque fantasy moment. The problem is I’ve murdered several chipmunks over the past few summers - killed them in truly brutal ways that involved poison, a garden hose, a pellet gun and a shovel.
With this much chipmunk blood on my hands, there was no way I could interpret this rodent’s actions as being friendly. I witnessed a throw down. This was a bold, hate-filled animal creeping me out like Max Cady just out of prison.
I’m waiting for his next move. Or maybe I should take it.
No matter what happens, I don’t see this ending well for either of us.