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I used to have a squirrel, when I was around 14 or 15. My mom's boyfriend was pressure washing his porch when a young squirrel came scrambling out from under soaked. He caught it and put it in a Pet Taxi for me. Mom and I went to visit that day, and he told me to check the carrier. I opened it and screamed as the little bugger came flying out at me. He circled my head, shoulders and made his way into my bra, curled up between my breasts and fell right to sleep. I named him Oliver. I had him until I was 19 and moved in with my dad and he didn't want him in the house, said 2 cats, 2 rats and 1 mouse was enough. I found a squirrel rehabilitator who took him and had him for a few days when he attacked her. The only thing she could figure was she was not mommy, I was. And because my dad didn't want him, she set him lose on a local mountain. I miss him alot.
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