The Adventures of General GrettaBot vs. the Squirrel Armada – Day 185667

(Author’s note- The Adventures of General GrettaBot is best read aloud using a super-hero voice, like Batman whispering.)

I fear for the Leader’s sanity. Let me explain. At first things were looking up. The Leader had finally started taking my council seriously on the subject of regular perimeter patrols. Several times a day we exit through the front gate on squirrel recon missions. I am outfitted with my full dress uniform (pink collar) to remind the vile tree rats of the rank of professional soldier they are dealing with. The Leader also wears his full uniform (pants), which is rarely worn in the house during the summer defense season.

In preparation for the recon patrols, the Leader attaches a leash to my uniform. This vexes me. I can only assume he knows what he is doing, though doesn’t explain it to me at all. Every time we ready ourselves for an outing he says the words, “New Jersey, Leash Laws,” and “Soon.” I fear we are being reassigned and these recon patrols are training for our new post. Though, I have no idea why I would need new training. I’m the point of the spear, the tip of the talon. I can only be sharpened to so fine a point.

Perhaps it is to work on our timing of attack. Often as we patrol, I see an opportunity to destroy nearby enemy troops. At first I would bolt after them in an attempt to crush their fuzzy bones between my jaws. But the Leader inexplicably held on to the chain attached to my uniform, granted often I have wrapped the lead around his feet while 360 degree patrolling. He needs to work on his positioning, but that’s another subject. The tactic of holding on to the leash slowed me enough to allow the enemy seconds to retreat up a tree. I kept up the good fight often dragging the Leader across the lawn while he barked battle cries. His feet sometimes left the ground completely in his exuberance.

I must consider the idea that he is following so closely to me to train himself on attack methods. Yes, that would explain quite a lot. If we are to be reassigned in the war to a new post, perhaps the vile nut-eating demons will have such a strong-hold that the Leader will need to be another foot-soldier in the good fight. I shall have to train him harder, never letting up.

Hopefully he doesn’t crack under the strain. I have already seen disturbing signs. Several times he has picked up the powerful message mounds I left in the front lines with a baggie. It often takes me several minutes to decide on the perfect spot to deposit them. As my instinctual manual instructs, the mounds should always be left in high-traffic areas. Upon deposition, the wind can waft the message of freedom to enemies and loyal patriots alike. Then the Leader inexplicably picks up the message mound with a bag, and carries it to the dumpster. I fear for his sanity, but will remain loyal and patient with his training.

Until next time, comrades, remain vigilant! 

Also, the Leader wanted me to mention his latest report in Reptiles Magazine: 
High Herping Adventures in Costa Rica