Orville and Wilbur were not destined to be bachelors for the rest of their lives. They kept asking (through mouthfuls of mealworms) when they could have a "companion". Of the female variety, of course.
It is unusual to come across flying squirrels in the wild, much less for sale so I could only make them empty promises. But I love them so I did not give up.
Back to Craigslist. I had not sworn that off. (My deal for my patient was not to say the "F" word any more if her cancer was not invasive. I am now substituting "FLYING SQUIRREL" for the "F" word.) Lo and behold, there was a female flying squirrel for sale and the listing had not been flagged. Quickly I downloaded the pictures and fired off an e-mail to the seller, imploring her to sell me the squirrel. I gave her my phone number and my e-mail address.
I could not believe it when my phone rang later that morning and she said lots of people wanted the squirrel but no one wanted to drive out to pick her up. I asked her where she was and she named a place that is far, far away in the boondocks.
"No problem!" I said, without considering how I would get the cage in my car. "I'll be there after work!" I then asked my office manager for $50 for squirrel money and my nurse, angel that she is, said, "Road trip! I have the van!". So spouses were called and arrangements were made and in celebration the office had delicious Mexican food for lunch.
After our last patient left we took off on our journey. It was a beautiful sunny day. Everything was green and leafy, butterflies were out and once we got past the traffic area it was an idyllic country drive. That went on, and on and on. The signs did not match Mapquest so finally in defeat we called the squirrel seller. We were re-routed and after making a U-turn in the two lane highway we found the "house".
The owner came out to greet us. She was toothless, barefoot, had long thin toes with long dirty toenails and her hair was long and scraggly. The smell of cigarette smoke hit us before we even entered the hovel. A Playboy ashtray sat on the coffee table next to three packs of cigarettes, two remote controls and several lighters. A huge plasma screen TV dominated the room. The only other light was from the computer on the desk. The owner said we could see the squirrel's face but we could not. I counted out the money and handed it to her. She flashed her gums at me and tucked the money into her tank top. I wondered briefly how it would stay in there as I had not seen evidence of any supportive undergarment. But I digress.
The owner's husband emerged from behind a curtain made out of a blanket. He briefly displayed a gap toothed grin and then picked up the cage and carried it out to the van. He put it in and we drove away.
About fifteen minutes later my nurse turned to me and said, "Did you see the squirrel?". I said that I had not, but that it did smell like a flying squirrel. She dissolved into gales of laughter and said, "Do you think we just bought an empty cage?". This caused me to laugh as well. As soon as we drove off the toothless couple probably high fived each other and then ran over to the computer to put the listing back up on Craigslist.
"Got us another one, Daddy. Let's go buy us some cigarettes."
The things we do for love, indeed.
Welcome, Amelia.
