Collision
Feeling guilty on Saturday morning about the previous night's eating and drinking binge (at least the eating held off the hangover), I decided to burn off some calories on the Katy trail. First, I took Casey for an extended walk that wound us off and on the trail (her choice, not mine. It's no coincidence that I regularly have passersby ask me, "Who's walking whom?") When we got back, I still had plenty of energy and it wasn't too hot yet, so I decided to dig out the rollerblades and go back to the trail.
But no walk is complete without some sort of conflict with the various forces of nature, be they snails sunning themselves dangerously on the trail, birds or other forms of animal life anxious to meet up with you. On Saturday, it was the squirrel.
One might say that I actually already have a strong curiosity about squirrels. Blame it on the dog, perhaps, with whom I've patiently waited as long as 15 minutes while she stalked some poor innocent squirrel in a tree. But then, they aren't always so innocent. I remember one squirrel in particularly who was so pissed that Casey was waiting for him at the base of the tree that he barked at us nonstop for five minutes before (getting us lots of strange looks) before I dragged Casey back down the trail.
Anyhow, as I headed out on my blades, I met one such high-maintenance squirrel.
Have you ever seen the movie Ice Age? Do you know the neurotic squirrel in that movie that spends the whole film obsessing about getting an acorn for himself? I swear this squirrel was related.
As I was picking up speed, a squirrel suddenly darted from the opposite side of the trail straight into my path. Now, there are brakes on rollerblades, but these ain't no high-performance engine that stops on a dime. And though I wasn't particularly interested in a squirrel-skate collision, there wasn't much I could do. I plunked down my heel as hard as I could.
The little guy, sensing he was about to get squished in a most uncomfortable way, screamed (yes, screamed). And even though he had pretty much made it out of my path, he dropped his acorn and zigged back across the path from where he came, hooting and hollering the whole way.
Realizing I was out of the clear, I laughed out loud. Apparently, the little scene was witnessed only by me, because my fellow trail-goers looked at me as though I were insane, laughing while skating with no iPod or cell phone attached to my ear. (And not that I would blame them with the number of crazies I've seen myself on the path.) But still, what I would have given to know what that looked like from another point of view...
Nature. We're best buds.
But no walk is complete without some sort of conflict with the various forces of nature, be they snails sunning themselves dangerously on the trail, birds or other forms of animal life anxious to meet up with you. On Saturday, it was the squirrel.
One might say that I actually already have a strong curiosity about squirrels. Blame it on the dog, perhaps, with whom I've patiently waited as long as 15 minutes while she stalked some poor innocent squirrel in a tree. But then, they aren't always so innocent. I remember one squirrel in particularly who was so pissed that Casey was waiting for him at the base of the tree that he barked at us nonstop for five minutes before (getting us lots of strange looks) before I dragged Casey back down the trail.
Anyhow, as I headed out on my blades, I met one such high-maintenance squirrel.
Have you ever seen the movie Ice Age? Do you know the neurotic squirrel in that movie that spends the whole film obsessing about getting an acorn for himself? I swear this squirrel was related.
As I was picking up speed, a squirrel suddenly darted from the opposite side of the trail straight into my path. Now, there are brakes on rollerblades, but these ain't no high-performance engine that stops on a dime. And though I wasn't particularly interested in a squirrel-skate collision, there wasn't much I could do. I plunked down my heel as hard as I could.
The little guy, sensing he was about to get squished in a most uncomfortable way, screamed (yes, screamed). And even though he had pretty much made it out of my path, he dropped his acorn and zigged back across the path from where he came, hooting and hollering the whole way.
Realizing I was out of the clear, I laughed out loud. Apparently, the little scene was witnessed only by me, because my fellow trail-goers looked at me as though I were insane, laughing while skating with no iPod or cell phone attached to my ear. (And not that I would blame them with the number of crazies I've seen myself on the path.) But still, what I would have given to know what that looked like from another point of view...
Nature. We're best buds.
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