Too much to blog about today. Watched My Life as McDull on DVD. Finished reading Feather Boy. Visited the National Library before its final closure. Met new folks for dinner. But what's on my mind now is actually a squirrel. To be precise, a dead squirrel. On the way from the National Library back to the Fort Canning car park, we chanced upon a cat chasing and catching a squirrel. I ran up and stamped my foot near the cat, freezing both captor and captive. Then they ran into the grass, and you went in after to try and separate them. It was pretty hopeless. The squirrel gave a final squeal and then laid motionless in the jaws of the cat. Stunned, we stood and watched the cat walk away with its prize.

Ironically, this is the first time I've seen death firsthand.