End of flap

Sorry folks, I have closed the comment feature on "Flag flap." I've twice asked one person to desist, but others have dropped bait, and I'm not in the mood to monitor anymore of this discussion in my inbox tomorrow. The salient points have been made. Everyone has their own journals in which to rant.

Dark sun

My street friend

First I spotted her across the street, wandering away past the corner of the house where she lives.

In the driveway a plump grey squirrel snuffled for seed. Oddly, she seemed absorbed in thought and didn't see the rodent at first. Then she stopped stalk still, hind legs half crouched. The beast was almost as big as her. It still hadn't seen her, a few yards away, which seemed odder still.

Usually I meet her in the woods, so I had taken her for a huntress, but she seemed more interested in watching the squirrel. Maybe it looked like too big a playtoy. After a moment she squatted and, in that inimitable feline way, tucked her sleak black tail around one hip. She had hunkered down for a good watch.

But the squirrel started moving away without hurry toward the backyard. Finally she took chase, but only at a trot, the pace of curiosity rather than killer instinct. Finally the squirrel saw her, scampered to the high rail of a porch, and shook its tail in indignation.

A few moments later she came around the far side of the neighbour's house and, seeing me at last, came over to greet me. I'm sure that to her I'm only another gentle stranger, but to me she has become a familiar friend.