The house next door is abandoned. Its only inhabitant is a remarkably grumpy squirrel I call Mabel. She sits on our crab apple tree and makes hissing sounds. She tells us – in no uncertain terms – that this is her territory and we should get out now. The funny thing is that the absentee owner of “Mabel ‘s house” has similar personality traits. She is a small old lady that appears once or twice a year and walks around her delapidated house with an expression of someone who is throughly irritated by everything she sees. I have never dared to approach either her or the squirrel.