Squirrels

A squirrel ate one of my prized Spring bulbs yesterday. I was quite put out. In my Buddhist mind, I know I did not really possess the bulb or the soil it is in. The bulb had a life of its own. The soil was there before I was born and will be there after I am dead. The squirrel lives in a natural universe, where ownership outside his own little nest of leaves is meaningless. Food is scarce or plentiful. When it's scarce, he may have to eat sprouting tulip bulbs. No biggie. But, in my materialistic mind, the mind overtaken by desire and fear of loss, I dream of squirrel burgers.