The Postscript: The perfect pet

My mother has found the perfect pet. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

A clever little red squirrel has been trying to get my mother’s attention for months. “He’s such a pest!” my mother complains. But the squirrel does not give up.

He has become quite tame, hanging out below the bird feeder, waiting for seeds to drop. He would much prefer to get them from the feeder himself, but my father has inconsiderately installed a length of stovepipe on the pole that holds the feeder, and the squirrel cannot climb up the slippery metal. Instead, he waits impatiently for the birds to drop s...