9 am Monday on Vanderbilt Campus, lovely clear fall day, in front of Stevenson Center. Rustle She pushes down the spring loaded lid and peeks in. Get a muffin and come back and see if he is still in there. Sprints to Rand, grabs a muffin and races back to the squirrel-pit of despair.
Nothing comes to mind after several minutes of pondering.
The sleepy groundskeeper is so eloquent. Moving like molasses he calls a coworker on the cell phone. The grad student, whose hair is now entirely frizzed from the humidity and the repeated anxious fussing, dances ferret-like with joy at his arrival. The object of all the trouble is frightened by the gathered crowd and refuses to emerge from a McDonalds bag that is wedged inside the inner trash can. She borrows a pair of leather gloves from a worker and daintily removes the little darling, holding him with the intent of examination for harm.