His gait is somewhat different from most squirrels. His tail has been severely truncated; in fact it's absent. In its stead a long growth of fur resembling a bit of a tail takes its place, but the tail not there at all. When he first came to our attention, three years ago, he hadn't even those long bits of hair.

When he scampers away, backside to us, he looks more like a rabbit than a squirrel. He befriended us because it was in his existential interest to do so, we assume. We were not aware of his existence before he first confronted us; he actually did, raced toward us and then stopped just before us, mere feet away, and waited. Even though our two little dogs, themselves a little larger than he is, were with us. I just automatically reached into the bag I always carry with me, and threw a peanut directly to him. He leaped toward it with the alacrity that only a squirrel can demonstrate, to possess it and triumphantly race off with his treasure.

We named him Stumpy and began to look out for him. And it was clear he was looking out for us, as well. He behaved quite unlike the other squirrels who couldn't seem to make the connection between us and the peanuts left behind, though some did, however warily. They would never allow us to get too close to them; our proximity alarmed them, but not so Stumpy.