Sunday, June 07, 2009
Yesterday morning while walking my dog, I discovered a new neighbor had taken up residence under one of the trees in the boulevard near the soccar field. I was quite startled by him, you see, for he was still at work digging his house, although it seemed he was even more startled to see me and dove for cover.
Must be a shy sort.
We went on our way, then, musing about the nature of this new neighbor who had already dug a couple of holes. If I had horses, I would be concerned about those holes, but, alas, this is a city and not a farm. So we let him be.
This morning we saw him again, this time on the other side of the sidewalk; he must be building a network of underground tunnels so that maybe he can get through the crowd and get a better view of the games that border his property. He didn't seem to notice us at first, so busy was he digging, casting the dirt up behind him into an enormous pile. I was amazed by his industriousness.
I have to say, though, that I disapprove of such hard work on a Sunday. He must not be Catholic. Or perhaps it's necessary for his survival, in which case I can understand his hurry.
But I only said, "Good morning, Moe." and we went on our way.
I've decided to name the neighborhood mole "Moe", you see. I don't think he recognized his name because he paid us no mind and just huddled in his little hole, shaking.
I hope Tom, the neighborhood cat doesn't get him.
The world is a violent place, isn't it?