Jerry frolicked in the summer sun, poking and prodding the other red squirrels into a game of chase, while helping himself to nuts and seeds that the blue jays left behind.
Often he visited, arms stretched wide, nose and whiskers, tiny grin, pressed against the glass.
During a winter snowfall, Jerry appeared with a chewed-off ear and a limp. He lingered by the window, taking a few nuts before scampering away.
He did not return with Spring.
Little Jerry, our lifeline during the dark days of chemo, the moments between the pain and nausea that nourished us and kept us whole.