Squirrels

I wasn’t going that fast, honest.  I was going faster than my average speed on my bike, but still relatively slow compared to the average vehicle speed. I don’t know how common your state mammal actually is in your state, but the grey squirrel earned its place as North Carolina’s state mammal by its shear proliferation. This one in particular found itself in mid-stride on the small neighborhood street perfectly in the middle of the street and nearly exactly halfway between my bike and the oncoming SUV piloted by the unprepared lady.  The squirrel did its normal double take stuttering and flailing, like many do when an oncoming car is approaching.  However, this time it genuinely didn’t have a good option, at least not after its extra measure of stalling.  The lady saw it and saw me.  She had a brief scowl on her face.  I will have to presume the best and that this scowl was at the nature of the unfortunate situation and series of events that led to it rather than at me for putting her in it unintentionally.  She briefly swerved to my side of the road and - hopefully, out of valuing human life over squirrel life rather than wanting to avoid litigation and a police report - she swerved back into her lane.  The next second, the squirrel was scooped up into her wheel hub and, ironically, gracefully flicked out as quickly as it had been sucked in.  I didn’t get to see her second facial gesture.  I hope it was on that saddened but not angry.  Nonetheless, there it lay, the dead squirrel.  A squirrel died instead of me today.  I’m thankful, even though it didn’t choose to do so.  I was briefly sad, but not despairing.  It was a squirrel, but it was just a squirrel - it was a squirrel.  It didn’t die as a sin offering like bulls and goats used to in Levitical offerings.  It died incidentally.  Yet, I have had a lamb die in my place, as a sin offering, and he willingly chose to do so.  I am eternally thankful.