Doctor Doolittle

Two days after Halloween I had some errands that I needed to run after work.  Oddly I decided that what I really wanted to do was to simply head home and relax for a bit, also I needed to poop and in all honesty that seemed vastly more important than anything else I could be doing at that moment.  These details in mind I kind of didn’t want to talk to, or be around, anyone for a while—which made hearing my apartment manager and one of the girls from the building say “There he is!  Get him!” as I approached the building somehow strike less fear and more “oh great,” in my heart than anything.

This being right after Halloween I was convinced that I was going to be assaulted with silly string or super soakers, or something left over from the recent holiday.  That kind of made it all the more surprising when I saw two grown women chase what looked like a baby squirrel out of the building  (Also the giggles of, “Look! It is going after Dan now!” just managed to confuse me).  The little creature came running towards me, to whom I moved out of the way, and it did it again, and I reacted the same way again.  After a couple of seconds of this the little guy decided I wasn’t going to be of any help and ran over to the rock garden in the front of the building and started foraging for nibbles.  For some reason I instantly knew what was going on:

That was a baby sugar glider.

I walked over to the door of the building, which the two adult women were holding shut—only peeking out through the window on the side—and told them that animal was someone’s pet.  After a brief back and forth about it indeed not being a crazy thing that hated society I asked them to get a shoe box so I could grab him.  After that was procured I captured the little dude, which he quickly jumped out of once and showed me his awesome wings and required a couple minutes of talking soothingly and quietly (two things I do not excel at) to grab him again, and brought him up to the apartment.

It is now Saturday and no one has claimed my new friend.  To quote the apartment manager, “I don’t care if someone comes and tries to claim him; I am going to act like I have never seen it.  That guy is yours.”  Which is good because I bought him a cage today.

Oddly no one knows how he came to be in our building.  I think he could have crawled in someone’s pocket when they went to work out and jumped out while they were in the gym.  Veronica thinks that someone got one as a pet and hated it and set it free, the animal being smart enough to run back into the closest building instead of the woods.  The other growing theory is that we have sugar gliders in our vents, and this is one of their children who got out and couldn’t manage to get back in.  I don’t know if that is my favorite, the most plausible one, or I just like the idea of super squirrels running around and fighting small crimes in our AC units.

His name, just so we are clear, is Doctor Doolittle, this is because the first thing that my wife said when we brought him home was, “I am married to Doctor Doolittle.”  I like it, because I can call him “The Doctor,” and secretly think that he was named after Doctor Who.


While I was posting this he decided that he was cool with me sitting next to him.  We have been hanging out together all day, and at some point he just decided I wasn’t a valid threat any more.  The fact that he isn’t grabbing food and running away is a big deal.  Keep in mind that I called Veronica a couple of hours ago because his ears were up, they had been down on his head like a beaten creature for the last couple of days.

Comments 2