We often hear about and many times experience a loss of someone or something that was far more important than we thought. When it came to Zebe, I was well aware he was a gift from the universe and I treasured every breath that my little happy bag of fur took. I was then shocked when he became aggressive without warning. Even more puzzling, his aggression was directed only at me; he gave me half a dozen of painful bites in a very short period of time. As much as I searched, I could not find an explanation. It all started when I shook a can of shelled nuts, something I usually did when it was time to feed him.

Besides Zebe’s sudden change in behavior, a lot was going wrong. My level of awareness then was in the negative territory. I was deeply wrapped in self-pity. I had been witnessing the death of my dreams, one after another. The feeling of isolation and the sensation of the walls closing in on me were overwhelming. I resented the fact that I had to be both the pallbearer and the gravedigger of those dreams. I wondered if I was not being as attentive as I should have been to Zebe. Due to his behavior, I was scared to be left alone with him. We kept him in his cage when the other party was not around. Zebe had always enjoyed total freedom. Neither him nor I was happy but I did not know what else to do. I got really upset at the suggestion that I had to give up on him.

There were occasions when Zebe escaped his cage and I had to call the other party. One afternoon though, the other party was not within reach and I had to do without him. Zebe managed to open his cage and I thought he was going to attack me. Instead, he climbed a shelf in the living room, all the way to a pot of a fern that hung from the ceiling. I asked him what had happened, why he was being mean to me. I added I loved him and I wanted my Zebe back. He turned around on the pot. With his hands, he dug some dirt and with his hind legs, he threw that on my hair and face. I thought he was being a brat. I had no idea he was just taking a dirt bath! Squirrels love their Dirt Bath. I kept on my monologue and asked: “Are you sick?” Zebe stared at the white wall. I felt a horrible feeling. I vowed we would come out of that one together. From that day on, there were no more bites or aggressiveness. I couldn’t help thinking that such a reminder that the happiness Zebe brought was finite was indeed utterly unfair.