Okay, so if I could go to the pet store and buy a little baby squirrel, I would have done it a long time ago. Maybe it’s the way my grandpa used to hand feed his backyard squirrels bread crumbs and dried corn cobs on the deck, or maybe it was the little family of them that had babies every spring until the tree was cut down, but I’ve always loved those little critters. Joy loves them too. Loves to chase them. Each morning, when the neighborhood squirrels are at their most active, Joy is chomping at the bit to chase them down and herd them into a corner. Of course she wouldn’t know what to do with one if she ever caught it. My neighbor and I sometimes leave bread for the squirrels, she even named one Harry. Today I saw Harry trotting through the grass to his tree home with not a light slice of bread in his mouth, but an enormous slice of pizza. I’m not sure, but I think it was the leftover Pa Pa Johns that Eddie and I ate last week and just got around to throwing the box in the dumps