“Hi Honey.  Have you seen Blackie yet?” I asked walking into the house, dropping my bag beside the foyer table.

“Yes. I told her you’d be home in a minute. I gave her a peanut and she scuttled off with it.”

I grabbed a handful of nuts from the kitchen and by the time I returned to the front door, our cute squirrely friend was sitting there, patiently waiting for me.

“Come on Blackie,” I said walking down our entrance steps. The little imp followed, much like a puppy, heeling beside me. Together we ambled over to the huge gnarly Scotch pine that grew in our front lawn. I dropped the peanuts by the trunk and Blackie scampered up to them. She immediately began sniffing through her bounty. I’m sure she did a count before carting them off, one or two at time to some unknown destination in one of our neighbours’ lawns.

Blackie, whose name befitted her colouring, had adopted Hubby and I, just as we had adopted her. Our property was her exclusive territory and she fearlessly chased away any usurpers who dared to lay a forepaw on any part of it. She was our tiny welcoming committee, running out from behind bushes whenever we arrived home from work.

Beyond the set meal times and routine that went with it, Blackie just liked to hang out. Whenever I was out weeding my flower beds, my little companion would saunter over, stretch herself out on the grass beside me and simply lie there while I worked. At first, I thought she was hoping I’d give her peanuts, but I soon discovered that was not the case. 

In the evenings, Blackie and I would keep company on the front porch. I’d be sitting in a folding chair reading my book. My fur-ball friend would lay down, spread-eagled beside me until twilight turned to dusk. And then, as if on cue, she would get up, stretch, look up at me, swish her bushy tail and wander off to her nest.

One Sunday afternoon, Hubby and I were lounging outdoors when Blackie suddenly showed up. She jumped onto our picnic table. She was shaking all over. She began screeching and chattering at us. Something had upset her and I knew it wasn’t us. I went over to the table and listened. I spoke softly to her. Slowly she calmed down and with a squish of her tail, she scampered off. She’d just needed someone to talk to.

Blackie graciously shared her life with us for a most memorable year. The Carrot Ranch’s May 18th Flash Fiction Challenge made me think of her. The prompt was to write a story that featured a squirrel.

10 thoughts on “Blackie

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  1. What a cute story about an adorable squirrel. I didn’t know they came in black, or that they could be so friendly. I enjoyed reading this true story. Thank you for sharing.

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    1. It’s great to hear from you Norah! Growing up in eastern Canada, I didn’t see any other color of squirrel except black. The little critters can be pesky things as well. I have another story about the squirrel couple (not Blackie) who got into our soffits and built a nest. It was like a bowling ally to them. We’d hear their tiny feet scurry along at one end and then the long slide, followed by a thump as they landed in their nest. Unfortunately this happy couple violated the human house/wildlife boundary and we had a one way trap put up – they got out but not back in. We repaired the hole they’d used to get in and for a year afterward, the female would come back looking for her hole. If I happened to be outside, she’ rant and yell at me from the rooftop. It was the funniest thing. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well I am amazed that black squirrels were so common to you in eastern Canada and I never heard mention of them before. How lacking is my experience.
        That’s an amazing story about your squirrel squatters. I had to laugh. Our possums do the same, and get treated the same, here! I’d love to see that squirrel ranting at you! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. What a wonderful memory! I saw my first black squirrel in Michigan last week. Up until then I had only seen red, gray, albino and flying. Now I think I’ve seen them all! Sometimes the story needs to be unconstrained by 99 words. 😉


    1. I had to Google ‘albino’ squirrel – never seen or heard of them! In the same post I discovered that in addition to the albino’s, there are pure white squirrels lurking around in parts of the U.S. – a genetic aberration of the grey squirrel. We have way too many natural predators like eagles and hawks to allow for the proliferation of them on the island. Thanks Charli for your prompting some delightful memories for Hubby and I. We had a fun night relaying the stories to each other; I’m sure the wine helped some too. 😉


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