“Nine hundred thousand, six hundred and fifty two.”

“Nine hundred thousand six hundred and fifty three.”

“Harold, you’re being a little bit excessive, we have more then enough nuts to last us the winter,” Harold’s wife Maude said.

Harold swooshed his bushy tail in disgust, “Great now you’ve done it Maude, you’ve made me lose count, again,” Harold said angrily.

Maude sighed and left the tree they shared for ten years. She had finally had enough of Harold the OCD Squirrel, as everyone referred to him.

After they moved into their tree house, Harold had stocked it with enough grapes to sink a battleship. He kept everything hidden in secret places that even he couldn’t find later.

“Maude come back, I’m done counting, I promise. I’ll change, I won’t horde things like a crazy nut ball, and count them obsessively like a mad accountant at Price Waterhouse at Oscar time.

“OK dear, I’ll come back this time,” Maude said as she pecked him on his furry cheek.