Our Chipmunk Neighbours.
Our Chipmunk Neighbors
There was a time when stepping out onto the patio felt a bit like arriving onstage. Before we’d even settled into a chair, the undergrowth would rustle, the stone edging would tremble, and then—like clockwork—our tiny audience would appear. Patio Pete always led the charge, bold as brass, with Consuella and Tarquin close behind. Three chipmunks, each with their own personality, each convinced they were the rightful steward of the garden.
Pete was the diplomat of the trio. He’d sit upright on the bricks, paws folded neatly, whiskers twitching with expectation. If we were slow with the peanuts, he’d give a polite chirp, as if to remind us of the terms of our long‑standing agreement. Consuella was the opportunist—darting in, grabbing her prize, and vanishing like a magician’s flourish. Tarquin, ever the gentleman, preferred to wait his turn, tail curled like a question mark behind him.
They became part of the rhythm of the place. Mornings with coffee, evenings with a book—there they were, scampering in from the hostas or the stone wall, ready to supervise whatever we were doing. They were permanent residents in the truest sense: not pets, not quite wildlife, but something in between. A tiny parliament of neighbours who trusted us enough to take food from our hands.
These days, with Miles and Cleo patrolling the yard like two fluffy border agents, the chipmunk visits are rarer. Every so often, though, we’ll spot a lone figure in the side garden—sitting upright, studying us with that familiar mix of curiosity and calculation. Maybe a descendant of Pete, or perhaps Pete himself, older and wiser, keeping a respectful distance from the doodle brigade.
Either way, it’s enough to bring back the whole chorus of memories: the patter of tiny feet on stone, the soft chittering, the way Pete would look up at us as if to say, “Well? You know the drill.”
Your pencil sketch captures him perfectly—the poise, the alertness, the quiet confidence of a creature who knew he belonged. This little piece can sit beside it as a tribute to the years when the garden felt just a bit more alive, thanks to three chipmunks who decided we were worth befriending.
My attempt at capturing "Patio Pete"