a likely grue

I was walking to pick up some dry cleaning. Dragging a cigarette. There was a man in the street ahead, stopping traffic across three lanes. He was waving a shirt to stop the cars. The cars were becoming upset, trying to go around him. This man of the street was a delay to their busy routines and making himself quite unwelcome. A tiny squirrel (little more than a baby) was trying to cross these six wide lanes of sprawl. The man, unkempt and unwashed, was stopping the cars and urging the squirrel on. The squirrel would move forward a few feet and then stop, the full paralysis of fear taking hold again. The man coaxed and pleaded with it, and it moved forward a few feet and then stopped. The cars lurched forward and tried to get around him and the man would swing his shirt and yell at them and they would cower for a short time. And he pled with the squirrel to move, to save itself, to finish the crossing. The man saw me walking down the sidewalk towards this crossing and gestured and yelled for help. He could not get help from the cars, they were only interested in continuing on and over and through. "Can you catch it?", he said to me, gesturing at the baby squirrel. "I can't pick it up, I'm scared", he said.

I knew the fear was real. The small frozen thing could be carrying disease. Disease this man would never find care or doctoring for. I nodded as I came up behind the paralyzed creature, and dodging the impatient cars myself, scooped it up. The man and I and the squirrel crossed together. I put the squirrel on a half manicured bush in front of a generic bank perched on the periphery of a dead mall. 'Thanks man, I couldnt pick it up, I was too scared' said the man who had just stood down dozens of speeding cars in a stand nearly worthy of Benkei or Thermopylae. 'if its yours you should get it to a vet, it might be sick', I said stupidly to the man, knowing that vets are not provisioned for squirrels. 'Oh, it's not mine.' He said as he walked on towards the dead mall. Another man carrying a bag had walked up. He thanked me too and smiled. I had to pick up my dry cleaning and walked on. The squirrel was still frozen on the bush, like it was carved from marble. I hoped its fear would pass. And the fear of the man in the street. And mine.

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