I feel like i should probably document some of the interactions I have with Cal State Northridge's native rodents, the CSUN squirrels. So that's what I'll attempt to do here. I've had numerous encounters with these amusing creatures, some humorous, some terrifying. In this first chronicle, if you will, I'll recount an episode I had last semester on the way to Linguistics 301. Allow me to set the scene...
It was a hot day in early summer. I was walking in from the eastern parking lots, observing the usual garbage and whatnot littering the sidewalks and gutters next to the B3 parking structure, when, all of a sudden, I notice a furry lump sort of to the side of the walkway. I walk up to it, thinking it may have been another part to a coonskin cap that I had discovered there earlier that week. No, what I find it to be is an apparently dead squirrel. My morbid curiosity got the better of me (as usual), and i sort of nudged the thing a bit with my boot. Nothing much having happened, I became a bit more aggressive in my endeavors, and gave it a slight kick. It was at this point that the thing sprang to life, and, to my horror, leaped onto my leg and proceeded to cling on for dear life. I'm sure you can imagine my shock and dismay, having the previously thought-to-be-dead squirrel now very much alive and digging its little claws into my leg. I commence trying everything in my power to remove the thing, partaking in all manner of kicking and jumping and other such nonsense that someone of my age does not usually be seen doing in public. At long last, after seemingly hours of this carrying-on, the stupid thing jumped off, and proceeded to run a few feet away from me. I stare at it in disbelief; it simply stares at me with those huge, horridly adoring eyes. It's at this point that I notice two guys on the sidewalk across the street, apparently having just witnessed this madness. I feel my cheeks turning red, I turn to them and stupidly ask, "what, this never happens to you?" They have no reply, they shoot me somewhat baffled expressions, and they continue on their way. As I resume the journey to class, I look back over my shoulder, and the squirrel has resumed its original position, lying in a disheveled heap on the edge of the walk, apparently waiting for its next victim.
It was a hot day in early summer. I was walking in from the eastern parking lots, observing the usual garbage and whatnot littering the sidewalks and gutters next to the B3 parking structure, when, all of a sudden, I notice a furry lump sort of to the side of the walkway. I walk up to it, thinking it may have been another part to a coonskin cap that I had discovered there earlier that week. No, what I find it to be is an apparently dead squirrel. My morbid curiosity got the better of me (as usual), and i sort of nudged the thing a bit with my boot. Nothing much having happened, I became a bit more aggressive in my endeavors, and gave it a slight kick. It was at this point that the thing sprang to life, and, to my horror, leaped onto my leg and proceeded to cling on for dear life. I'm sure you can imagine my shock and dismay, having the previously thought-to-be-dead squirrel now very much alive and digging its little claws into my leg. I commence trying everything in my power to remove the thing, partaking in all manner of kicking and jumping and other such nonsense that someone of my age does not usually be seen doing in public. At long last, after seemingly hours of this carrying-on, the stupid thing jumped off, and proceeded to run a few feet away from me. I stare at it in disbelief; it simply stares at me with those huge, horridly adoring eyes. It's at this point that I notice two guys on the sidewalk across the street, apparently having just witnessed this madness. I feel my cheeks turning red, I turn to them and stupidly ask, "what, this never happens to you?" They have no reply, they shoot me somewhat baffled expressions, and they continue on their way. As I resume the journey to class, I look back over my shoulder, and the squirrel has resumed its original position, lying in a disheveled heap on the edge of the walk, apparently waiting for its next victim.
Also, please note that the entirety of this story is 100% true.
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