My animals got the blame today.

For getting on counters and whining at doors.

For pacing under window sills and scratching at walls.

For yowling and barking and making a fuss.

For wanting to go outside the minute they were let back in.

I shooed them all away.

Ordered them to lie in corners and be quiet.
Blamed the pounding in my head on their relentless noise and frantic motion.

Until I spied him from the corner of my eye. A flurry of movement stopped in its tracks the moment it sensed me looking.

Scurrying up and down the crepe myrtle tree, preparing for what I assume (based on his clumsy execution) to be his first winter.

Dropping more acorns than he secured, drawing more attention than he deflected.

Causing more trouble than he was aware of as he raced from tree to tree, dodging cats and dogs who tracked him from inside the house and a weary woman who took more aspirin and thought they had all lost their minds.