Obviously, Walt Waggoner in the 1930's was hoping to start a comic strip by this name. Oh, wait a minute! I think I know that squirrel in this picture. Long ago, when I was in junior high school, my mother grabbed me in a panic that I had seen only a handful of times. She proceeded to tell me that my brother had been walking along the sidewalk when a squirrel ran up his leg and bit him for no particular reason. Mom wanted me to go right now and catch that squirrel to bring it back dead or alive. We would take it to the "authorities" to check it for rabies. Being the dutiful son, I took off for the "athletic field" in Quincy...about eight city blocks away. Supposedly, that is where the deranged squirrel attacked my brother. Anyway, as I walked that eight blocks I thought about how I was going to recognize that particular squirrel. I hadn’t even been told whether it was red or gray. Also, as I was unarmed, just how was I supposed to capture it? If I accomplished that, how was I to get it home? I had no container in which to carry its sad little body. This was a classic "Quixote" quest! Anyway, I decided that I would go on to the field, look for a dead squirrel lying on the ground, or wherever, and figure out then how to get it home. So, when I got to the field, I walked the entire playing area, looking for a squirrel (or its body). Not finding one, I climbed up onto the high rock wall (seemingly ten feet tall) that surrounded the field; and, despite my fear of heights, walked the entire perimeter seeking the evil culprit of the misdeed. As it happened, I didn't see even one squirrel...not even one scampering in the trees. Whew! I had done my duty! Now I could go home and tell my mother that I had done my best, but the squirrel was gone. Now it was up to her to decide what to do about my brother when he started foaming at the mouth!