Espionage in Myer Park

Well, I was going to post something deep and intricate here, but then it got to be late, and my brain stopped functioning on that level, so this is lighter fare.

Intermittently, when we forget about the draining and near lethal effects of mid-summer Texas heat, my sister and I decide to take our fitness gig on the road to nearby Myer Park (for those of you who remember the Omaha house: not that nearby, we actually have to get in the car for this one). The funny thing about Myer Park, aside from its near perpetually deserted status, is the behavior of the squirrels that live there. There are not hoardes of them, but there are enough so that you could see from five to seven strategically placed squirrels through the course of one rotation around the park's circumference. They sit on things (trees, benches, grills) like little watch dogs and stare at you menacingly as you make your way past them, sometimes following you a bit down the trail, just so you know who's in charge. Today, one was actually laying flat against the sidewalk commando style and then as we got closer it hopped up and started charging. Fortunately my sister screamed and ran away, disorienting it momentarily and allowing us to make a fairly clean escape. She has designated herself as the official squirrel scout, a bastion of safety and awareness to protect us from the evil schemes of the four-footed furballs. The only hitch is that she never sees the little beasties until we're practically on top of them, so the whole screaming thing is probably as much from surprise as it is from fear.

I think it would be great sport if we brought our dog out and let her tear around chasing after the little critters. But, it's best to remember that it could get ugly, since this dog is about the most vicious 16 lbs. of squirrel-hating frenzy you could ever wish to see. Furthermore, my sister has some only half-comprehendable fears about her getting sucked into one of the rider mowers that roam the park like bottom feeding fish. Ummm...I don't get it either.

My sister, by the way, is convinced that these particular squirrels are all in cahoots in a plot for world domination. This was decided from our very first encounters with them last summer, probably because they do seem at times to be so well-organized. Today the scheme was further refined when she decided that the black birds that you also see intermittently are in on it too, serving as some kind of guard to give the squirrels advance warning of our approach. Keep in mind, the girl is already thirteen, so it's not like these are mere childhood fancies. No, the complexity and vividness of this fantasy life are signs of a sickness of mind that could only mean one thing: she's destined to become a writer someday as well.