So Riley makes a great paparazzi. I'm waiting for mr. squirrel to come knock on my window asking for the prints or a million dollars. Or asking if we could so kindly discard those pictures because he's having a fat day and doesn't want to deal with the pregnant rumor (too much celebrity news).
He's probably sitting on the tree branch because we closed him out of his home in my attic. That's what he gets for not paying rent.