Baby Cakes in the immediate aftermath of what turned out to be a fatal blow to the enemy this morning after one of our usual attempts to negotiate a truce (note bit of squirrel fur hanging from the corner of his mouth).
Once again a shrieking outside as we sat blogging, rushing to the scene, popping the squirrel from Baby's jaws, squirrel running up the tree. But this time the squirrel didn't make it.
The enemy managed to scurry up the tree but then stopped and hung precipitously over one of the branches high above. A little while later we went out to inspect the battlefield and counted the poor little fellow among the dead, lying on its side at the base of the tree.
The squirrel's companion -- mother, offspring, sibling or mate -- was chattering in distress in the boughs above. A bluejay was shouting the news. We carried the limp body -- still resplendent in all that glorious fur -- to a spot in the garden for later burial and went back inside. Afterwards the victim's companion seemed to haunt the terrace, looking for the one who was no longer there. A psychological landscape of sorrow to echo the 9/11 ceremonies all over TV and in so many heartfelt and heartrending blog posts today. Three among many that touched us deeply (and still reading -- so much wonderful, personal stuff out there):
Frank LoPinto of The Cool Blue Blog takes his freshly-minted combat medic son to Ground Zero in the aftermath of 9/11:
I told him that he would soon be going to war, and I wanted him to see what it was he would be fighting for.
Aussie blogger Mike Jericho of The Fall of Jericho gives us a hearty and heartwarming personal remembrance from down under:
I know the American heart. It is a big one, always ready to shelter someone, protect someone, and to offer them aid and comfort. But as great as the American heart is, the American capacity for wrath is vastly greater.
Becki Snow of The Kerry Fairy, child of a long line of warriors -- via Blogs for Bush's 9/11 Remembrances -- reflecting on her golden-haired little girl's decision in the aftermath of 9/11 to enlist:
Not my daughter, please. Not my lamb to the bloody Taliban; murderers of women and children, haters of all that is female, all that is Christian, all that is good . . . My Husband chokes at the thought of his Princess as Soldier: "I will go, not her". My Husband, Father to my children, sole provider, soul comforter -- will these monsters take him too? . . . "This is the rock from which we were cut -- you are children of Warriors. They are watching us, our children are watching us. We do not know what the future brings, but God is with us and we must not disappoint Him -- or Them."