The match was moving at a furious pace. I backpedaled and slammed the ball across the net, tennis shoes squeaking on the green court. It was early afternoon on a hot summer day in Mississippi. Sweat poured off my brow. My opponent, strong and confident, was planning the kill. Just then a squirrel started slowly walking on to the court, then another, and another. The three of them were hunkered down real low and started to move toward me in a small v-formation. It would have easy to just say shoo, get out of here, but I sensed something ominous, something bigger. They started picking up speed, they were only ten feet away now, I was frozen, my mind was racing, wondering, are they mad, do they have rabies? Yeah, they were mad, really mad.