It is the kind of turn around that makes you question if there IS any order to the universe, the equivalent of hearing that the Pope has converted to the Hare Krishnas and is pestering people on street corners.

Yeah, that weird. You may want to sit down before you read the rest of my sad tale.

The spousal unit, who has for years and years been the sworn enemy of squirrels everywhere and passionate general in The Great Squirrel Wars" has become a squirrel lover.

If YOU think YOU'RE feeling dizzy and disoriented, imagine how I feel at this moment. I'm just barely coping with the shock.

This disorienting state of affairs is partially our cat Zubby's fault.

For years and years Paul and I have had cats, usually one older cat and two younger ones. The older cat would be resting on its laurels, having taught the younger ones the fine art of hunting. The younger ones would keep the field mice and squirrel populations down to manageable levels. That was always the way, until this year.

With the death of Lily a while back, we're down to two cats. Zoe is pushing 18 and most definitely resting on her laurels. This year Zubby turned seven which is middle-aged for a cat.

The feline who was once The Terminator of cats, an awesome hunter who would gift us three or four times a day with a dead creature of the rodential persuasion, has brought us exactly one mouse and one squirrel so far this year.

I have seen him lazily lounging on the deck in the sun for hours at a time.

Clearly he feels it's laurel time.

Uh oh.

So what does this have to do with Paul and the squirrels? Well, without a Feline Terminator for the very first time ever, we have baby squirrels in the yard. Two little teensy weensy bits of red fluff the spousal unit's named Flub and Dub. The little cutie pies are so very tame that they'll practically let us pet them.

Yes, you read that right, the spousal unit--Sworn Enemy of Squirrels Everywhere--has NAMED two baby squirrels.

(To give you a sense of how tiny they are, those are sunflower seeds at Dub's feet.)

Wait.

It gets worse, eh.

When he sees them, the spousal unit inches up to them and talks to them in a cootchie coo voice. Paul, Sworn Enemy of Squirrels Everywhere, is talking baby talk to two bitty squirrels.

This, my friends, is what comes of letting your husband watch The Gilmore Girls on the tee vee.

Can man boobs be far behind?

--Marn