Danger there. Rock here. Shoes near. Yum yonder. Flexuosity of the path has been traversed successfully: time to nosh.
Mr. Squirrel says I keep all the plumpest seeds to myself, but I will not allow him to traduce me, especially since I give away the nicest ones on Friday’s Feasty Festival Of Fantastically Free Food At Fifteen Past Five.
Oh, I see a hand approaching. Well, let me sniff it first. If it has aroma of pages turned and covers dusted, I shall bite the fan of bibliophilia, requesting they return to where they may imbibe their passion for passionaries . If, though, the palm’s scent is of danders and friendly phermones, the fan of biophilia may massage my ears and pet my head as much as they like–but, no tail!
Sated since seven. Sleepy now. Burrow soon. Time to rewind the esses while avoiding the Xes: time to nap. ; )