“Erg,” I thought. “I've already seen Denver Avenue.”
But I'm a good monkey when it comes to my pesky gut feelings, so I did it.
The yards were cool and flower-filled and the sun was hot and I was riding slowly south happy for my Sunday freedom — it being the only day I take entirely off. It was impossible for me not to be in a good mood; in my expansiveness I was saying hello to the trees, to the flowers, to the kitties, to the baby squirrel hanging from the wire...I did a double take. What the hell was up with the squirrel hanging from the wire? He looked a little dead, but the then I realized if he were dead, he must be a zombie squirrel, because he was tracking my movements with his beady little eyes, moving his head just enough to maintain a creepy recriminating aura.
Aw crap, I thought. This guy needs help. But he was 20 feet up in the air. And I'm only 5'6" with my shoes on.
I'd seen a man park a kayak- and bike-festooned 4Runner up the block, so I went to see if he would help.
“I just now pulled in from Texas,” he said.
I offered to help him unload his truck so we could use it as a platform. He made it clear he was not my guy.
I considered my options. I could: A. Ride away and have an über-crappy rest of my day because I'd left some poor animal behind to die in distress. ~or~ I could B. plant myself in the middle of the street and heckle people until someone helped me rescue the squirrel.
Obviously, I wouldn't be writing this and exposing my shame if I'd chosen option A.
Option B was in full swing when two more bikers rolled up. I pointed up and they stopped and regarded the squirrel. Once I convinced them that the squirrel was still alive, they joined me in my rodent vigil.The squirrel was just a little guy, clearly not injured, but just sort of ... stuck up there. Like he'd scampered halfway out on the wire and then lost his nerve.
A brunette in her late 40's came walking by, saw us studying the squirrel and said, “He's not going anywhere – he's been there since 11 this morning.”
Oh my god. It was 2 pm. “We're going to rescue him,” I told her.
She offered no encouragement. Actually she offered the dour opposite and went inside her house.
“Whatevs,” I thought. I ain't leaving until this squirrel has a happy ending.
Not that kind of happy ending.
For god's sake.
In any case, a much nicer lady came by and said she'd go get something to rescue the squirrel with. She didn't offer any specifics and disappeared around the corner.
The squirrel, meanwhile, grabbed hold of his own tail. I surmised that he was trying to mix things up a little. Only so much you can do when you're stuck on a wire.
At the end of the block there was some free furniture that could elevate one of us five feet in the air. On a nearby porch were some broomsticks that I felt I could briefly liberate for the cause. That would get one of us up about 15 feet, but that was still 5 feet shy of the squirrel.
I was feeling more and more sick about the whole thing. We needed something better.
Something better appeared in the form of a dude in his 60's with a bare chest and a 20-foot-long bamboo pole.Because don't we all have 20-foot bamboo poles laying around for when we need to rescue acrophobic squirrels?
The old guy proffered the pole. The little squirrel didn't know quite what to do, and in his confusion, did a full 360 around the wire. The girl and I grabbed my fleece and held it rescue trampoline-style underneath our confused little buddy. But our squirrel champion was savvy and teased the squirrel onto the pole. Once the squirrel had a good grip, he gently lowered the little guy to the ground. Without so much as a backward glance, the squirrel took off running.
We, meanwhile, went wild with applause (muffled by bike gloves, but still).
“Did my good deed for the day,” said the old dude. “Guess it's time for another beer.”
And with that, he disappeared into the glare of sunny Sunday Portland.
The couple lingered and the man, whose name was Daniel, helped me return the bookshelf to the corner. As we dragged, I explained that I was from Arizona and wasn't sure where I was going to land.
I'll admit, when he said, “I hope you stay — Portland could use more squirrel rescuers," I got a little choked up.
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