
Ah, dogs. The loyal, fluffy companions who never fail to bring joy into our lives. But there’s one thing that makes these otherwise well-behaved creatures go absolutely... nuts.... Yes, we’re talking about the age-old rivalry between dogs and squirrels. It’s a match made in some kind of wild, furry heaven. But is it true love? Or is it just pure, unadulterated chaos?
Let’s set the scene. You're out walking the dog, she is happily plodding along with her nose to the ground, hoovering up every sniff possible. The sun is shining (a rare occurrence in England) and all is good in the world. You’ve even allowed your mind to wander, a sense of peace stealing over you after a day at work. But then you see it. A squirrel. God’s tennis ball. It’s sat in the open, all twitchy tail and beady eyes. The dog sees it and suddenly becomes 12.5kg of sausage shaped missile. This is it, the best day of her life! The chase is on!

It’s not just a chase to a dog. She is a lion hunting an antelope on the plains... it’s is a contest of wills, a fight to the bitter end. My dog, with her ridiculously short legs and long body, is now a hunter of extraordinary grace and tenacity. The squirrel however, with it’s superior agility and an enormous expression of smugness has already skittered up a tree and is sat on a branch watching my dachshund squeak and gibber piteously, stuck on terra firma below.
What is it about squirrels that drive dogs wild? Are squirrels the ultimate test of a dog’s speed and intelligence? Are they really that fast? Or do dogs just love the idea of almost catching something that is infinitely quicker than them? It’s like a dog’s version of watching someone dangle keys in front of your face and then snatching them away just before you can grab them. Dogs will never catch the squirrel, but they will always try.
One could argue that squirrels are the true heroes of the animal kingdom. They’ve mastered the art of taunting. They make eye contact with your dog, just long enough to let them know they’re being mocked. And what do dogs do? They launch themselves into full sprint mode. Their inner monologue must be something like, “I WILL GET YOU. YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE. I AM THE FASTEST. Except... wait, I’m already tired... and that tree is really high...”
My dog isn’t ever going to catch the squirrel. Ever. But those few precious moments when she thinks she’s about to win the battle, she is the wolf.

She circles the tree and stretches her long body up the trunk, wagging furiously whilst the squirrel sits on a branch, sipping a little acorn latte. Eventually of course, this stalemate has to end. Either the dog runs out of energy—because let’s face it, chasing things at full speed isn’t sustainable. Or, more likely, I’ll run out of patience and drag the poor mutt away from the situation.
The squirrel, meanwhile, continues with its day, blissfully unaware of the chaos it has caused. It’s probably off somewhere eating an acorn, scrolling through its tiny squirrel Instagram, and laughing at the latest video of a dog doing the “chase” dance.
As long as there are squirrels, dogs will chase. And as long as dogs chase, squirrels will run. It’s a vicious cycle. A cycle that, in the grand scheme of things, has no winners—except for the squirrels. The squirrels always win.
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