We have a dead squirrel-that-isn't in the house. Well, we have a dead squirrel's skin. A plaything for the cats we boought at Pennsic, from a shop called Spotted Pony Traders, known to everyone at Pennsic as All Things Dead, for they specialize in pelts. So the skin is basically a red squirrel pelt sewn back into the shape of a squirrel. Willow, the male cat, loves it. Makes him feel ferral, and it is actually something he can catch! So I decided to try to raise it from the dead, as a joke on the cat. You know, so it could play back. I lit candles, made a makeshift alter, stuck a dead fox face on my head, and repeated the "Alna Nathrak, Uthva Spethud, Dathiel Dienve" thingie from Excalibur over and over. The cats came and watched. I told them they would soon be in Hell when Jolly Foofur, my name for the squirrel-that-isn't, came back to life. They got bored and left. After a while I got bored too, so I blew out the candles, took the dead fox face off my head, grabbed my mason hammer and beat the unliving shit out of Jolly Foofur. Damn cats.