That picture. So many memories. Every time I look at that picture, it brings tears to my eyes. I have so many pictures of her. A book actually. But that picture is my favorite. It's not a recent picture. This picture is from when I was born. She was holding me with a smile. Maybe she was thinking how to teach me her ways to fix problems.

I am on her shoulders, proud that I managed to light a bomb and threw it at Walter Wolf. You can even see him in the background. How I wish I could be at her side again, with dynamite lit, throwing at her rivals.

I tore my eyes to another picture. This time I caught her with a bomb lit and ready to aim. I forgot who she was aiming at. She looked like a baseball player trying to strike out the opposite team. Her eyes looked intensified and her lips were curved in a grin.

Another picture she was helping me how to hold a mallet. She looked grumpy that she had to help me because I was about to fall over. But if you look at her eyes, she was glad to help. She was amused when I was hanging by the handle as she picked it up. I was scared but I knew I was safe. I glanced at that mallet against the wall.

I turned to last picture of her and me. Unlike the pictures I just got though looking at, she was much older and was using a walker. She didn't use her bombs anymore because of her arthritis. Her eyesight was failing a bit too. Even though she looked like a person that would not grow old before, time said differently for her. She was vulnerable to have a heart attack. Thank god I was there……… at her deathbed to say……. good bye.

"Skippy, I have lived a great life, so don't ruin your life because I'm dead." She told me after I told her how I could live without her.

"You were there for me when everything went bad. Who would I go when times are bad?"

"You will figure it out. You always did. Here I want to give you something."

"What is this?"

"My first bomb. I never used it. Something to remember me by."

"Thanks, Aunt Slappy."

"I must go now, Skippy. My time on this earth is fading."

"DON'T GO!"

"Goodbye, Skippy."

"Goodbye, Aunt Slappy."

I looked at the bomb she gave me. I had it while her funeral. I put a dynamite stick with a bomb next to her head stone. Remembering her made me cry.

"Skippy?" I lifted my head to see Dot, my wife, next to me. "Are you thinking of Slappy again?"

I nodded my head with tears in my eyes.

"She was a great squirrel."

"I know Skippy."

"Why did she have to go?"