Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
An eastern fox squirrel sits on a park bench in Irving Park on a foggy December day. We have two species of tree squirrel you frequently see in the city, foxes and eastern grays, neither is native. We have native squirrels in our forests but I’ve rarely seen them.
I don’t think this Wookiee we ordered from chewy.com is authentic. Still, I think we’ll keep him, he’s adorable and much less likely to rip your arms off.
Maybe you can explain it to me, little one, as I don’t understand it at all.
Trixie behind the blinds in one of our picture windows, one of my rare pictures I prefer in black-and-white to color.
My eyes play tricks again. There on the mantle, beside my work awards and the ashes of Templeton and Scout and Emma and pictures and keepsakes, I thought I saw Boo. But Boo isn’t allowed on the mantle. Some things from the mantle have fallen off lately and broken, likely from micro-climates creating sudden whirlwinds that come down the chimney. That I can explain, that I can see. But Boo I cannot, yet I do.
Boo watches a dog across the street as a heavy snow continues to fall during our snowstorm in January.
Trixie watches the setting sun as its last rays light upon her belly.
A picture of Templeton in our backyard from the summer of 2006, edited two different ways. Color corrected up top, natural color below to show the diffuse purplish light at sunset. The purple version is a more natural representation of the light (I was struck by the light at the time) but most days I prefer the color-corrected version where Templeton looks more natural. Either way I love looking at my old pictures of him, I fell in love with cats because of this charming little fellow.
Boolie 