Buddy Meets Carl the Squirl

My post content

As told by Buddy DeDog

I was about a year and a half old when I met Carl — the squirrel who claimed he “ran the South Side.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but judging by the way he strutted across the top of a trash can like it was a stage, I figured it meant something to him.

It was another cold April day, the kind where the wind slices through the alleys like it’s late for an appointment. I was sniffing around behind a bakery, hoping for a stale roll or maybe a donut someone dropped. That’s when I heard a voice.

“You there. Dog. Big dog. Muscles. You look like someone who appreciates opportunity.”

I turned around, and there he was — Carl. Older than me, tail fluffed out like he styled it on purpose, eyes sharp and twitchy in a way that said he’d seen things. Street things. Hustler things.

He hopped down from the trash can and circled me like he was inspecting merchandise.

“Strong legs. Good teeth. Intimidating presence. Yes, yes… you’ll do nicely.”

I blinked. “Do nicely for what?”

Carl grinned — or whatever the squirrel version of a grin is. “Partnership. You’re the muscle. I’m the brains.”

I didn’t say anything. Mostly because I was trying not to laugh. Carl wasn’t dumb — far from it — but he had no idea who he was talking to. I’d learned early on that being underestimated was a weapon. So I let him underestimate me.

“What’s in it for me?” I asked, keeping my voice low and serious.

Carl puffed out his chest. “Information. Access. Connections. I know every alley, every trash can, every human who drops food, every dog who steals it, and every pigeon who lies about stealing it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Pigeons lie?”

“All the time,” he said, waving a paw. “Especially the big ones.”

I thought back to the giant pigeon I fought over a half‑eaten hot dog. Yeah. That tracked.

Carl leaned in close. “Look, kid. You’re strong. But strength without strategy? That’s just wasted potential. Stick with me, and I’ll show you how to survive without fighting every day.”

I didn’t tell him I already had strategy. I didn’t tell him I could map the whole neighborhood in my head. I didn’t tell him I could predict human behavior better than most humans. I didn’t tell him I was smarter than he’d ever guess.

I just nodded. “Alright. We can work together.”

Carl clapped his tiny paws. “Excellent. First job: we’re pulling a bakery run tonight. High‑risk, high‑reward. You distract the baker. I grab the goods.”

I tilted my head. “And what do I get?”

Carl smirked. “Half.”

I smirked back. “Seventy percent.”

He froze. “Sixty.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the Alleyway Alliance was born — Carl the hustler squirrel, and me, Buddy DeDog, the muscle he thought he controlled.

He had no idea I was playing chess while he was playing checkers.

But I liked him. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t surviving alone.

©2023

BuddydeDog