Guest Blog - The Squirrel loves purple

My eldest at college in North Carolina has had some interesting experiences, bringing home lots of great stories. Which she tells in detail as her mother has taught her. This semester she wanted and needed to get into a biology class, but there were only 8 spots and 12 students vying for the spots. The professor told the 12 to email him an interesting story of something in their life. My daughter emailed him the following story. She got into the class.

Here is Madison's entry, republished by permission, (with some editing by her mother) and my guest blogger while I am out of town.

During the previous spring semester, I visited the Franklin Street Starbucks for a change of scenery while studying. I arrived there while it was very crowded (which, admittedly, is all the time) and was weaving my way through the tables to get to a seat when I happened to look directly down into the purse of a woman sitting at one of the smaller tables. 

Immediately, I assumed I must have miss-seen. I set my backpack down and resolved to walk back the exact same way to investigate as I made my way towards the counter. The bag was rather large and tall, and it was impossible to see its contents unless looking down from directly above. So, pretending I was having difficulty squeezing through the tables, I positioned myself just so and glanced down once more.

 I had not been wrong. Inside the woman's bag was a squirrel. 

A regular brown squirrel, like those you see on campus, wearing a purple, glittery harness. It was frantically scurrying around in her bag and looked like it was trying to climb up the sides. The woman, meanwhile, had her hands in the bag and was attempting (and failing) to attach the moving animal to a leash.

 I had many questions. Had the woman captured this squirrel somewhere on campus? Where did she find a squirrel-sized harness? How did she get the harness on the squirrel? More importantly, why was an apparent squirrel snatcher and wrangler having such difficulty getting a leash on the animal now?  

At this point, I had been staring for quite some time, so I made my way to the counter and started texting a friend. We agreed I needed to get a picture, and began discussing the best possible way to do so. I kept glancing back at the woman periodically trying to decide on a plan of attack. It was during one of these glances that she looked up at me. We made direct eye contact, and then, while staring me dead in the eye, she zipped up the purse, threw it over her shoulder, and ran out the store. I got my coffee, and, to this day, never saw the woman, or her squirrel, again.