“Hey buddy, what’re you lookin’ at? There’s nothing here to see. Keep walkin’!”

  I had been strolling the Carré Saint-Louis when a nearby squirrel went darting up a tree and dove into a neatly bored hole in the trunk about ten feet above the ground. It wasn’t long before he had pivoted inside his little den and took to peering down at me. While I rummaged for my camera I quietly mumbled “don’t go anywhere, this’ll make a great shot.” 

  “You people and your cameras,” he scoffed, “can’t you ever just let things be? Come to think of it, I wish I had one so I could capture all you idiots fawning and offering bits of gravel or even more moronically nothing at all while you hold up those stupid flat devices you never put down.” 

  “No really,” I tried to explain, “I’m an amateur photographer and I love Nature. How cozy you look in your little home! Did it take you long to dig?”

  “I just dug it, you doofus. We don’t count the seconds, hours or days like your kind, we just live in the present.” 

  “Yes, living in the present. We have a lot of teachers and gurus who preach that art.” 

  “Well,” he said, “they could stand to learn a thing or two from our kind.” 

  I agreed.

  “I wonder if it hurts the tree?” I mused. “I mean your digging into it.” 

  “You what?” he shot back. “You wonder if my humble little abode ‘hurts the tree?’ You think I haven’t looked in your fancy windows? What do I see when I do? I see tables and chairs and all sorts of stuff. In fact when I’ve done a little exploratory digging in the roofs of your houses I’ve discovered that your homes are of wood just like mine.”

  “Let me tell you something,” he went on, “my home’s tree is still alive; I wonder if the trees your homes as well as all that stuff in them are built of are still alive?”

  “Hmmm,” I had to admit, “you have a point.” 

  “You bet I do, Mr. Fancy Camera. Now move along before I get a pigeon friend of mine higher up in our tree to show you what he thinks of you and your kind!”

  “Ok, ok,” I said, chuckling, “thanks and have a great day.” 

  “Ya, ya, don’t trip over the tree roots as you go…” were his final words, “…no, actually, I hope you trip over the roots!”

  ‘What an adorable little squirrel!’ I thought….