I feel

sorry for the squirrels that frequent our garden. In the spring, summer, and the early part of the autumn, they have lots of cover on the branches of their super highways. They can make death-defying leaps undetected except for the mysterious swirling of leaf and branch. Once the leaves are gone, so is their cover. Suddenly, we have clear views of the gymnastics and antics and I have to confess we spend a lot of time watching (and laughing) - as does Charlie, our labradoodle. Charlie is convinced her purpose on this planet is to rid the garden of squirrels. And she's good at it. She has eagle eyes and steely determination. She will do whatever is necessary to get the squirrels up the tree or over the fence. She will sit, motionless, for long periods of time, trying to judge the best time for her Herculean leap from the deck to chase the ever-elusive squirrels.

Of course, the squirrels aren't overly concerned. They seem a tad annoyed by the interruption, but undeterred. They, too, will sit motionless on upper branches judging the best time to make another foray for the chestnuts that tantalize them below and twitch a tail at the annoyance of a dog intent on a never-ending game of chase. Only the red squirrel (is that purely co-incidence?)chatters and fusses and tells Charlie off. The black squirrels and the grey squirrels are more circumspect.

Even when inside, Charlie will sit on the chair by the living room window, wistfully watching the wildlife cavort.



Riley is totally unconcerned by the squirrels. He likes being the spectator to Charlie's hapless and fruitless dashes. For him, that's entertainment.