just follow the cat

Bean 6 (maybe) - the (high) art of counting beans

Bean [bēn]: noun

1) an edible seed (e.g., a pinto bean)

2) an insignificant amount of something or nothing at all (as when someone doesn't know beans about something)

3) a unit of money (as in a bean counter)

today

the day of the thinnest moon

at the time of the palest green leaves

Baltimore, MD

You humans. You surprise me sometimes. I know I can't ever trust you because (well) quite simply you're untrustworthy. In other words, you can't trust what can't be trusted. Kind of simple, isn't it?

You also walk around my world like I don't exist. Except when you want to throw rocks at me or call me names. But there are those rare occasions when one of you does something good – when you actually help more than hurt. When that happens, my faith in humans is briefly restored.

I saw that again today when my brother was killed. A human was responsible for that. It may surprise you to know that killing my brother was the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.

So, in the short time I have with you, I will tell you the story of my brother's death. I'll be quick, though, because I know you don't have the longest attention span. I hope you'll remember what I've told you, but I doubt that you will. You are, after all, a human.

I am not a human. I am a squirrel, so don't call me a tree rat or a nut pirate or some delicacy that is about to be set in front of a hillbilly. Also, my name isn't Nutsy, Bushy, Fuzzy, Rocky, or even Bullwinkle. It is Chuck-Chuck which is a common name for a squirrel, but what would you know.

My brother was also a squirrel. No surprise there. Although we weren't close, we were brothers. You might have a brother, too, so I hope you'll understand. And even if you aren't close with your brother, I figure you must know what I mean.

My brother and I live near the big street with the open grassy area. Lots of squirrels live here. Earlier today, all of us were busy looking for food. My brother and I happened to be near the top of that long sloping hill – the one that goes down to the really steep hill that finally falls off the end of the universe. We were gathering seeds, nuts, and bean pods. It had been a long winter and we were hungry. But all winters are long for squirrels. Again, what would you know.

I can't be sure, but I assume my brother was daydreaming about feasts of those wisteria bean pods that drop from the vines a short while from now. Or maybe he was thinking about mating season and all the craziness that happens at that time of year. Or he might even have seen the bushes across the street and convinced himself that there was some mystery hidden beneath those branches. Maybe he thought he saw a mound of beans so large that no squirrel could ever eat all of them. Not even in an entire lifetime. I guess it doesn't matter, though, but I still wonder what he was thinking before he ran into the street – if only to remind myself never to think that thought.