Little Inklings 2025

Squirrels. I don’t know who invented them, but they certainly didn’t ask me first. Every single day, they show up, in MY yard, on MY property, acting like it’s theirs or something. They act like they’re so brave just because they think I can’t get to them in those trees. (I totally could climb that tree, by the way, I just don’t think it’s worth it.) I mean, just look at their tails. They’re always sitting in the trees, twitching their tails. What’s the big deal? It’s literally just a big twitchy thing. Like, are you proud of it or something? And then their eyes. Every day, they glare at me like they’re better than me with those tiny eyes from the trees where I can’t get to them. And no one even understands how horrible they are. My human gets mad at me when I bark at them and try to chase them. At ME! I’m just trying to protect you! I’m starting to think this is just some kind of game to the squirrels. Every day, they run away when I chase them. I run as fast as I can, but in the end, they always win. I keep telling myself that I won’t fall for it; I know what is going to happen, but every day, I keep falling for it. But I won’t give up. I’ll keep chasing the squirrels forever, until the end of time, and one of these days, I will catch one, no matter how long it takes. Why do I do it? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Partially because I need to show that stupid dog that he can’t catch me no matter what he does, and partially because I’m just bored. But some days, I don’t even want to go down there, until I look at him, staring up at me, daring me to come down, and let him try again. I know he won’t win, and it’s getting pretty boring, but then I look THE CHASE By Julia Bernstein ’29 20