So this happened in Time Magazine. Welcome to the party, Time. You’re a little late. However belated, the homage to squirrels on undergrad campuses brought fond memories of Bwog’s own joyous, complicated relationship with the omnivorous rodents. Love them, hate them, or don’t particularly care at all, here’s a brief history of Columbia, the Sciuridae, Bwog, and you.

From our early days in 2007, Bwog has had a dramatic fascination with the trials and tragedies of squirrels, documenting some overseen struggles of baby squirrels.

Yet after our early sympathy, the Columbia squirrel gained strength and ferocity, eliminating any cute and fuzzy feelings fast. We began to watch from a distance — by taking lots of pictures of squirrels. We also started creatively writing about squirrels. The phrase “a squirrel, squirreling” became a thing. The fear builds.

2012-2013, however, was the true rise of the power-hungry, crazy-ass squirrel. They started getting sassy, eating people food. A squirrel took some innocent student’s piece of pizza and ate it. It then took that piece of pizza up a tree and ate it there. Cue our sudden rise to fame as some other people picked up on the situation at Columbia. A name was born: Mozzerodent. We tried to warn the public, and Columbia just made dumb jokes about it.

And that’s where the issue stands at the moment. We look forward to continuing our duty in bringing you pointless squirrel pictures, overly dramatic anecdotes, and generally making a big fuss over rats with furry tails just trying to live their lives. It’s been a privilege.

Update, 12:24 p.m.: Mere seconds after publishing this post, we were tipped the following picture. Never say die.

Bwog’s mascot, the eternal, the everlasting legacy