“Ma’am, we don’t dispatch for?—”
“Please. It’s the town mascot. This is a PR nightmare waiting to happen.”
There’s a long pause. “Um, I’ll send someone from the fire department.”
Five minutes later, during which the squirrel has systematically destroyed my organizational system and I’ve added this thing to the terror watch list, heavy footsteps approach.
Patton Cross fills my doorway, fully geared up, looking like he just stepped out of the kind of calendar Grandma says firefighters should pose for.
His eyes scan the room. Papers are everywhere, the wastebasket is upside down, and I’m crouched behind my desk with a broom clutched like a sword.
“You called 911 … for a squirrel?”
“It’s armed and dangerous. Look at those teeth!”
As if on cue, the squirrel chatters menacingly from atop my filing cabinet.
Patton’s lip twitches. I think he’s trying not to laugh.
“Patton, this is acrisis.”
“Hardly.”
“Where’s your fire dog?” I demand. “Isn’t he supposed to help with this kind of thing?”
On cue, Oreo the Dalmatian trots in, surveys the situation, and yawns before sitting down with complete disinterest.
“Your dog isbroken,” I accuse.
“He retired from rodent duty,” Patton says.
I swear his mouth quirks. Is this amusing to him?
The squirrel unleashes another round of aggressive chittering.
Patton raises his hands slowly, speaking in a voice I’ve never heard from him—gentle, almost tender. “Hey there, little fella. You’re just scared, aren’t you? Let’s get you home.”
The squirrel immediately stops chittering and tilts its tiny head.
“I said almost the same thing, but—” I watch in disbelief as the animal cooperates.
Patton moves slowly, carefully, while making soft clicking sounds. The squirrel watches him but doesn’t run.
I whisper, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
After a moment, it hops down from the filing cabinet, scampers across my desk, and—I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes—the animal climbs right into Patton’s outstretched hand. With the other, he opens the window to my office, which, to be fair, is probably what I should’ve done fifteen minutes ago.
“What is happening?” I murmur.
“He needed someone to stay calm,” Patton says.
“Iwascalm!” I hiss.
“You were wielding a broom and screaming.”
“I was defending my territory!”
Oreo sniffs the air, finally showing some interest.
