Bobby chased his prey, at frantic pace, round the corner by The Beach House cafe. I’ve seen a Portobello Beach fox and heard that someone saw tracks of a deer. I helped rescue a beached porpoise once, but I don’t think I’ve seen a squirrel down here. From beyond the edge of my frame, past the cafe, a voice of very little authority whisper shout hisses, “Bobby! Here! Bobby!” Bobby has as much chance of catching the squirrel as the voice has of ending the chase.
Bobby exits frame left and a few seconds later his owner enters from the other side, black joggers and hoodie, grey hair, paunch. The inverse of Bobby’s lean white body and black face. Even their energy levels are inverted. He pauses, weary, on the prom in front of me and calls again, “Bobby!”
The little jack russell skips back, empty mouthed, to its owner’s feet. He stops, confused, as the man immediately starts walking again. “Moan Bobby, get the squirrel”.
Don’t chase the squirrel, chase the squirrel. Mixed messages.
Thanks for being here. Thanks for reading.
I love that you do.
Paul.
A wise man once said "always chase the squirrel ❤️ never drop your nuts. " 🙏
Ok not a wise man, it was just me saying it there. Happy Saturday Paul 😀