So you want to know about the day in the life of a squirrel? You’ve come to the right place then. 

It’s 8 a.m., and I, Prat the Squirrel, am awake. Not from an alarm clock, no, I don’t do that. I’m an early riser by train, especially when it makes the air vibrate. Time to start my day with a nutritious breakfast: a mix of acorns I stashed away last fall, a few hard cookies I found on the ground and a half-eaten bagel. Ah, the joys of a college campus: good food and cheap rent.

It’s getting close to 10. Everyone is going to the building in the middle. Students shuffle by, staring into their phones, completely oblivious to me and my impeccable coat. I’m rocking a classic black with a hint of autumn brown. Us squirrels have to stay on top of trends. But there’s something else stirring: the train approaching. 

Right in the middle of this campus, like some colossal beast, are these giant train tracks. Trains rumble past several times a day, and I’ve learned to respect them. I used to hit the dash right in front without worrying about anything, but that was before el accidente. My homie tried to zoom past the train but he can’t zoom anymore. Since that day, I have been waiting for the train, always pausing. Never rushing. Like Doctor Scrat.

It’s time to head on over to the big building next to the street. As I navigate through the bushes, I hear a loud, “Awww, look at the cute squirrel!” from a group of students sitting by the fountain. I stop, letting them know “wassup,” insert wink here and then keep pushing it.

The scent of french fries wafts from the ducts, and I can’t resist. I zoom across the grass, sidestepping an oncoming bike, leaping from tree to tree and landing on the roof from where the scent is coming from. I climb down through the vent (I’m the only squirrel that knows about it so don’t bother asking anybody else). 

Waiting for the right time to hop down … “NOW!” I leap down to swipe fries and I’m back out like I was never there. It’s my signature move: The Squirrel Swipe. Then, with a flick of my tail, I vanish into the bushes to enjoy my snack in peace. This is a form of art. 

As the sun starts to dip, I climb to the highest branch of my tree, overlooking my kingdom. I watch the students below, running to their next classes, stressing over exams and wondering what to have for dinner. And here I am, living my best life: no deadlines, no essays, just acorns and the occasional fry. This is the good life.

Before I hit the hay (I’ve got to be up for another round of acorn-hiding at dawn), I reflect on my day. Some might call me a “nuisance,” but I’m an essential part of this campus. I’m the little squirrel that could. Especially when it comes to avoiding trains and stealing fries.