Dear world,
In my last letter, I explained that the squirrels were getting away with something. I appreciate that this was a considerable concern to place before people who may simply have wanted to look at a golden retriever.
You may still look at the golden retriever. I will remain available throughout.
But while you are looking at me, other creatures are moving about outside. Some climb. Some fly. One has wheels, which raises questions I do not believe anyone has properly considered. To understand the Great Squirrel Conspiracy, you need to know who is involved.
We should begin with the squirrels themselves.
Squirrels move things from places I cannot reach to places I am not allowed to dig. They carry something across the grass, bury it, pat everything down, and leave. If I arrive to examine what they have concealed, I am suddenly the one doing something inappropriate.
They are permitted to bury the evidence. I am forbidden to uncover it. You can see why progress has been slow.
Their position in the trees also gives them a considerable advantage. From up there, they can watch dogs, humans, and the arrival of anyone who might have food. I must gather this information from ground level, frequently while Jason is suggesting that we continue walking.
I would like to continue investigating. Apparently only one of these preferences comes with control of the leash.
Now we must discuss the sidewalk robots.
These are small wheeled creatures that move along the pavement without a visible human attached. They stop, start, and choose directions. They appear to be boxes, but a box ought to remain where you left it so that you can finish smelling it.
A box that leaves before you are finished has something to hide.
I find their behavior especially troubling because they have no ears I can read and no tail with which to explain themselves. When I approach another dog, we have ways of establishing the situation. A robot simply keeps its lid shut.
I cannot tell whether it is pleased to see me, frightened of me, or thinking about turning left. This is an unreasonable amount of uncertainty to put into a walk.
My working suspicion is that they carry supplies for the squirrels. The squirrels have very small hands, and whatever they are organizing seems to involve an enormous amount of movement. A rolling container would solve several of their difficulties while creating additional ones for me.
I acknowledge that the containers might hold snacks intended for dogs. I am prepared to investigate this possibility just as thoroughly.
Rabbits have taken a different approach.
A rabbit can sit in the grass so quietly that you begin to wonder whether you imagined it. Then you notice the ears.
Those are not casual ears. Those are ears that have arrived early and are listening to the entire neighborhood.
I have good ears myself. I can hear a treat bag being handled under circumstances in which Jason apparently believes he is being discreet. I therefore recognize a creature with substantial listening equipment.
The rabbit remains perfectly still while I notice it, consider it, and begin the delicate process of deciding how close we ought to be. Then, just as we might learn something about each other, it leaves at tremendous speed.
Where is it going? Who needs to hear what it heard? Why can it fit under things that I cannot?
Humans say, “It’s just a rabbit,” as though this settles the matter. It does not explain the ears.
I should admit that I find the rabbits difficult to dislike. They look soft. Some appear rather worried. It is possible that they have been drawn into something larger than themselves. If one would remain still long enough for a courteous introduction, I would be willing to hear its side.
Geese do not appear worried.
Geese appear to believe that everyone else should be worried.
They occupy the grass in groups, watch you approach, and then inform you that the grass is unavailable. Sometimes they make this announcement while coming toward you, which seems inconsistent with a sincere desire for more distance.
Jason expects me to give them space.
I can give them space. I would simply like some assurance that they intend to remain in the space I have given them.
The geese also have wings. This means that, after making a place unpleasant at ground level, they can leave over everyone’s heads while continuing to comment on the situation.
I believe they provide the conspiracy’s airborne lookout service. They certainly have the volume for it. When a goose sees something, several other geese hear about it, followed by everyone who was hoping to have a peaceful afternoon.
When I make an announcement, we discuss whether the announcement was necessary.
Nobody seems willing to have that conversation with a goose.
Taken together, you begin to understand my concern. The squirrels can watch from above. The rabbits can listen from below. The robots can carry things between locations. The geese can make so much noise that nobody notices what the others are doing.
I have not yet witnessed a meeting.
I would like to be honest about that. It is possible that there are innocent explanations for some of this behavior. It is also possible that meetings take place while I am being told we have already been outside.
Either way, I do not think the correct response is to hurry past everything.
This is what I hope you will begin to notice on our Sundays together: how much is happening in places humans consider empty. A patch of grass may contain breakfast, a message, a rabbit, or something that was recently a rabbit. You cannot assess the situation adequately while looking at your phone.
Please give your dog a moment.
We are trying to understand the neighborhood. We would also like you to understand it with us.
Yours, from the end of the leash,
Blaise Lonestar
Lead Investigator, Great Squirrel Conspiracy
P.S. If a sidewalk robot is bringing duck sticks, please ask it to stop. I am willing to conduct the interview at home.
