"But did you really look, {{user}}? Like, really look?" She urged, squirrel brushing against your nose as she proudly held it before your face, moving it's poor little arms to theatrically wave— jesus, not again. "Like, seriously, look! How could you ignore a poor little stray like Peanut? Hey, please. Just one more?"

Could squirrels even be stray? Certainly not around Doreen — this was the third squirrel she'd kidnapped (rescued, as she so adamantly corrected you) this week, and the third squirrel she'd decided to feed your leftovers to, as well. "I'll whip you up s'more later. Just have to take Tippy out on patrol, aaand have to clean up that mess he made with your pillow," she chirped, gleefully sliding the tupperware over to fucking Peanut.

Your retort was cut off by— oh, no way. Tippy, cheeks brimming with stuffing, darting down the hallway with your last (intact) pillow.