We have a colony of squirrels on our deck throughout the day. M has taken to naming the regulars, including one that has a malformed jaw with a long protruding tooth that makes it difficult for her to eat. When Snaggletooth began appearing she was incredibly skinny and looked malnourished compared to the rest of our visitors and was routinely bullied by the larger gray squirrels. M tends to toss the “survival of the fittest” handbook into the trash sometimes, so he would click the doorlatch to scatter the larger grays. Slowly, Snaggletooth became accustomed to the noise and would scamper up the tree and wait for the others to leave before resuming her feeding at the pan of sunflower seeds.
A couple of weeks ago Snaggletooth disappeared, and we feared the local hawk or the stalking kitties had somehow gotten her. But after a few days absence (and M checking ever hour or so), she returned. Scratched up, skinnier than before, and her overgrown tooth now gone. She definitely looked like hard times and fighting had befallen her.
Seeing her there every morning crunch-crunch-crunching away and slowly but surely plumping back up again has been a highlight of my mornings. She seems to be tolerated or getting along well enough with the rest of the red squirrel clan that they tolerate one another and can feed at either end of the pan in relative peace. She still battle scarred, has several bald patches in her coat, and is much less attractive than many others who come and go throughout the days and early evenings. Her scrappy nature has endeared her to us, though, and for us to see her is like a visit from an old friend. For however many squirrel seasons we have left to observe her, we will enjoy each day.
I am feeling sort of emotionally crappy due to physical things and find some solace and joy in our furry and feathered visitors. No so much a bad day as simply frustrated with the number of medications I am taking to control my diabetes and how nothing seems to work for longer than a few weeks. I exercise 6 days a week, I am eating much better and cleaner than ever, and yet things seem to be stuck in their daily still-too-high patterns. I have another check in with my endocrinologist next week and really wanted to have a better logbook. Instead it’s fluttering around throughout the day no matter how much I exercise or how clean and how little I eat. Aggravating.
On top of all that, my weight is staying stubbornly plateaued. It is just a number, of course, and I am satisfied with the loosening of my jeans and other clothing. I would just like to have the positive reinforcement/reassurance that there is significant number in my life progressing in the right direction.
On the brighter side, the numbers are significantly improved over even a month ago. Patience is not something I have an abundance of anyway, and much as I enjoy seeing my doctor every couple of weeks while we jigger and tweak the prescription cocktail, I vastly prefer our visits with a nice, progressively stable logbook.
Patience. Faith. Hope. Perhaps strengthening my resolve in the latter 2 will bolster my constant battle with the first.