Little Squirrel!

Little Squirrel!  Those two words pop out of my mouth repeatedly when in the car.  It seems as if squirrels are always contemplating running out in front of my vehicle and all I can think to say is, "Little Squirrel!"  I hit a squirrel once while driving to work many years ago and I cried the entire rest of the way to work.  I couldn't bear to think that I had killed a living thing with my car (I'm the same one who "saves" spiders and carries them outdoors to place in the grass).  So, since then, I cry out to the squirrels that fancy darting out in front of me.  Larry always laughs and says that the squirrels are smart enough to stop and dash back the other direction, but I still carry the sadness and guilt of having run over that poor squirrel so many years ago.  What if that squirrel was someone's mother, father, brother or sister and its presence was missed in the leafy nest high up in the tree that night?  I've always been anthropomorphic so I can imagine the sad little squirrel family without their loved one because I had hit it with my car.  So, to avoid any more squirrel casualties, I'll be that crazy lady in the car crying out, "Little Squirrel!"