A Squirrel Named Larry

A forgetful squirrel can't find his winter stash. WC: 358

Larry was not just any squirrel.
He was a squirrel with the fluffiest tail, the fastest paws, and, unfortunately, the worst memory in the whole park.
Every fall, all the squirrels bustled about, collecting acorns for winter. They buried them neatly under leaves, under roots, or tucked in hollow logs. Not Larry. Larry buried acorns everywhere- under swings, inside flowerpots, once even in the postman’s boot.

“Larry,” sighed his squirrel friend Millie, “you’ll never find your food when it gets cold!”

Larry just grinned, holding up an acorn like it was treasure. “Oh, don’t worry, Millie. I’ve got a great memory!”

He did not.

The first snow came. Larry’s stomach rumbled. “Ah, time for my snack!” he said, trotting off to one of his many hiding spots. He dug in Mrs. Johnson’s rose garden.

“Acorn?” Nope. Just muddy petals.

He tried the sandbox at the playground.
“Acorn?” Nope. A tiny plastic shovel.

He even poked his head into the birdbath.
“Acorn?” Nope. Just one very annoyed blue jay.

“CAW!” Larry tumbled backward, his tail dripping wet.

By afternoon, Larry was tired, muddy, soggy, and still hungry. He plopped down on the porch of the neighborhood dog, Max. “Ruff! What are you doing here, fuzzball?” barked Max.

Larry sighed. “I’ve lost all my acorns. Every last one.”

Max tilted his head. “Strange. My bed has been feeling awfully lumpy lately…”

They both peeked into Max’s doghouse. There, stuffed inside Max’s favorite boot, was a mountain of acorns, round, shiny, perfect. Larry gasped. “My stash!”

Max growled. “My boot!” For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Max sneezed from all the acorn dust, and Larry burst out laughing.

The next day, Larry shared his boot-stash with Max, Millie, and even the grumpy blue jay. He had more than enough. From then on, Larry still hid his acorns in silly places. But he also tied a string around his tail to remind himself to check the boot first. And every winter night, with his tummy full and his friends beside him, Larry thought, Maybe being forgetful isn’t so bad… as long as you’ve got friends to help you remember.

Written for "The Writer's Cramp" 
Word Count: 358