On our morning walk, up pops our old buddy Earl, checking us out as we approach. He had ducked into his hideout when we got a little too close for comfort, and eyed us as we walked by. “Hello, Earl,” Karla chirped. She talks to all the animals even if they never respond. Earl let out a string of chirps, squeals, and whistles that startled me! Mainly because I understood what he said! I responded with a series of my own chirps, squeals and whistles and finished off with a particularly sharp burp for emphasis. Earl ducked into his hole for a few seconds, then popped up again and started another diatribe.Karla seemed confused. As I said, she doesn’t get replies to her utterances, and here I was having a full-fledged conversation! I had just remembered that in a past life I was a small-animal psychotherapist and spoke many of their languages. Earl was telling me that to call him Earl Squirrel was just plain stupid, something a very immature or uncaring two-legger (human) would do because it’s cute. Turns out his real name is Reginald. So there.
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