This little guy was on the steps when I arrived home at the hotel. He was not happy to see me, and didn’t hesitate in expressing his dissatisfaction.
He looked harmless enough, but I snapped this just as he turned to hiss at me, like a cat. He had already charged me on the steps, then proceeded to follow me down. Seriously, I was a-feared he had the hy-dro-pho-bie.
Now as it happens, I speak squirrel. I don’t go around blabbing about it, because it’s pretty much a useless skill. But the fact remains, I do speak it. There is a problem with my squirrel-speak, however, and that is this: I don’t have any idea what I’m saying. The squirrels do, and in general, they don’t like it. I have yet to figure out how to speak squirrel in a more kindly fashion, but I am open to learning.
Anyhoo, after this bugger charged me one last time and hissed again, I decided it was best not to speak to him. Instead, I got in the building as fast as I could. If I’d attempted his language, I’m pretty sure I’d be nursing a major wound and foaming at the mouth right now.
Hy-dro-pho-bie ain’t pretty, y’all.