Because I’m quite bad in this life – let alone past ones – I have to share my pad with a pussy cat called Tux. I know! It is a rough life that I lead and not at all as glamorous as you might assume for a squirrel of my standing. Anyhow, I guess most of the time it’s okay because the dear thing does sleep rather a lot and I am usually up high somewhere out of her reach – sitting on Kaff’s desk or in my hammock, which is even higher out of reach up on top of Kaff’s desk. I think you could safely say that we tolerate each other’s existence at best. What annoys us the most about each other is that we usually want to be where the other is in the evening – namely snuggled up with Kaff on the sofa. I like being here because Kaff likes to a) eat chocolate and b) sometimes does this while watching a half-decent television programme, such as Fringe or True Blood. She will sometimes sit there and read but hey, as long as she has chocolate, I’m happy. The trouble starts when Tux decides that she’ll jump up and cuddle in and that’s when I usually get displaced or knocked over or tumbled to the floor.

So as you can see we’re not best mates, which is why when I saw this picture of a squirrel smooch attack, oh how, I laughed. And imagined myself and Tux re-enacting it. I quickly dismissed that idea – I’d get her fur all over me, the creature molts like she regrows new fur every day, but I thought the pic was fun and every so often I do imagine myself springing a surprise luurrve offensive. It won’t happen but this is kind of cool, all the same and the pic comes courtesy of one of Kaff’s Twitter pals, Miss Fizzy Duck, who is brilliant and funny and worth a follow, if you’re on that social network.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, Everyone. Pucker up now!