General

The little grey squirrel tried to get some more room on the hard wooden shelf. His paws were pinned down by his side and someone was standing on his tail with their sharp claws. If he'd known who it was and how big they were, he might have said something, but he didn't know everyone on this shelf and he didn't like to risk it being someone very much bigger than him. He hadn't always been on this shelf, you see.

Yesterday morning, someone had chosen to take home the squirrel next to him and, as they were all so tightly packed in on the shelf, he had been lifted up too and then dropped onto the cold shop floor. He had stayed there for some time listening to children's squeals, watching scuffed shoes run about and sweet papers fall around him like bright rainbow-coloured leaves. A couple had even landed on him and stuck to his fur. Luckily, the shop had been fairly quiet, so he had quickly rubbed the sweet papers off with his paws without anyone seeing him do it. When the next family with small children came to look at the woodland animal display, the mother had gathered him up off the floor and put him back on a shelf.

    He slowly pushed his left paw behind and around his back to rescue his poor tail only to suddenly find that he was now facing sideways. This was most irritating, he thought. If he stayed like this, no one would come and pick him and he would have to stay here on this packed shelf for another night. It was very uncomfortable standing all day and all night. There were so many squirrels in the forest round the village that visitors liked to come to the toyshop to buy one they could take home. There were three shelves of grey squirrels – small, medium and large – all packed tightly together. The little grey squirrel desperately wanted to be picked but the other squirrels, who were bigger than him, pushed him to the back of the shelf every time. They laughed when the little grey squirrel said that he didn't belong there. They laughed even more when he said that he was special and he was going to have a name and a lovely family and home and lots of adventures. They said that he was only another squirrel just like them and that people didn't give squirrels names. People gave names to dogs and cats and hamsters and other pets. Didn't he know that squirrels weren't pets, they were woodland animals. He didn't say anything but he knew they were wrong. His mother had told him stories of famous squirrels with names like Rocky the Flying Squirrel, Merle the High Flying Squirrel, Squirrel Nutkin, Timmy Tiptoes and Scamper. She had told him that he was a special little squirrel and that he should never forget that, wherever he was. If he didn't, she had said, then one day he might get a name of his very own, too. Oh, how he wanted a name, a family, a home far away from the horrid squashy crush of the squirrel shelf, he sighed.

    He heard the bell above the door jangle and tried to move his head round to get a look at who was coming into the shop. Adults with no kids. There was no point trying to right himself on the shelf. They won't be taking me home with them, he thought. They're probably just doing some last minute shopping before they go home, although what they're doing in here, I don't know.

    “But I'd like to buy you something.”

    He heard a man's voice – low, gentle, but insistent.

    The woman laughed.

    “I really don't want anything – I certainly don't need anything. I'm glad you brought me to see the village, though. It's really pretty and the forest is absolutely beautiful.”

    “Then I want to buy you something to remind you of the trip,” the man said.

    The woman laughed again. It was a playful chuckle and the little squirrel liked it. She sounded like a fun person.

    “Okay, in that case, you can bottle the scent of pine cones and get rid of the carpet in our hall and cover it with autumn leaves that we can kick around instead!”

    This time the man laughed too, but nervously, not sure whether she was serious or not.

    “Erm, I don't think they sell those things in here. Come on. I'll buy you anything you want from this shop.”

    The little grey squirrel was desperate to see if they were coming near his shelf. So desperate in fact that he wriggled his hips and pushed his shoulders and could just see them. Yes, they were! They were coming his way. This is it, he thought, my last chance today. He wriggled and pushed the squirrel in front of him, who pushed back. The other squirrels on either side of him started tutting at him in disgust. They crossed their paws like annoyed parents do and glared at him to stop moving. But he just kept wiggling and fidgeting to try and get to the front of the shelf. It was no good. He was so squashed in amongst the other squirrels that he could only just breathe. He felt as if he would pop, which is exactly what happened. He felt himself rising up onto the tips of the claws on his back paws and then his paws left the ground. The other squirrels were pushing against each other so hard that the little grey squirrel was being forced up and out of the crush of squirrels on the toy shop shelf. Then suddenly he popped free and was flying through the air turning over and over. He was scared and knew he was about to land on the sticky shop floor again. Only this time he didn't. Something - someone - caught him.

    “Whoah, little fellow, steady on. Where do you think you're going?”

    It was the woman. He recognised her voice and he looked up at her face. He saw clear blue eyes and a broad friendly smile that made dimples in her rosy cheeks. The tip of her nose was tinged with red and her skin was pale against her long chestnut hair. He liked her even better now that he could see her and not just listen to her voice. He wanted to stay safe in her warm gloved hands.

    “You're very cute,” she said. “You've got a real Paddington bear stare, haven't you?”

    'But I'm a squirrel,' thought the little grey squirrel angrily. 'I'm a squirrel, not a bear.'

    “Come on, Meg. Let's put him back with his little friends.”

    The man picked him out of the woman's hand and placed him back on the shelf. The other squirrels smirked at him.

    “Look at that little face and tell me you don't want to take him home.”

    The man looked intently at the squirrel.

    “Nope, I don't want to take him home. I really, honestly, don't even remotely want to take him home. Sorry, little fella.”

    The squirrels sniggered.

    “Well, I do!” said Meg, snatching the little grey squirrel back off the shelf. “And you did say, Owen, that I could have anything I wanted from this shop, so I'm taking him home with me.” She turned from the man and looked at the little grey squirrel, “Now what are we going to call you?”

    “We called them squizzels when I was a kid,” said Owen. “It was easier than saying squirrel.”

    “But that sounds more like a thing. This little one's got character - and attitude too! You can see it in his face, in the way he stands, in that intense stare of his. Plus he's bright. He must be. After all, he picked us when he fell off the shelf, didn't he!” She stood looking at him for a while and then her eyes flashed. “Okay, I've got it. Let's not call him squizzel but Squizzey. Squizzey sounds a little bit mischievous, lively, fun, inquisitive and quick-witted. It's just perfect for a little grey squirrel.”

    “Squizzey it is, then,” agreed Owen. “Does kind of suit the squizzel, I mean, squirrel.”

    'Yes, it does', thought Squizzey, feeling warm and at home in Meg's gloved hands. 'I like it, I like it very much indeed.'     He was happy with his name, so much so that he didn't even mind the fact that he could still hear the other squirrels sniggering and giggling. He even carefully raised his right paw and waved them all goodbye to show them that he didn't mind. Then he cuddled into the soft wool of the gloves. 'I have a name,' he smiled to himself. 'A name of my own just like the famous squirrels have. I can have adventures and they'll have a name, too. They'll be called “The Adventures of Squizzey” and here I go on my very first one.'