Sounds vaguely racist, now doesn't it? Consider the following:
It is late, cool and damp in Sandy Hill. The hour nears midnight. I turn the corner, the river at my back now, stepping carefully over the ice. The tree to my left is gnarly and shiny black with moisture. There's movement! Branches shake at the top left corner of my vision, where the leafless tree meets the roof of one of many house-to-embassy conversions in our neighbourhood. This is the Russian Consular Office, and the Russian Consular Tree is shaking as a fat black cat ambles onto the roof, its stripey tail swinging for balanc- ...wait, a minute. It's a veritable rat-a-tat-a-COON! (anyone have a Kleenex?). So this is exciting. And then I look up a little further... and Trollface McCoonCat peers at me from the peak of the rooftop. Just his eyes and ears are showing, black against the black sky. Another black figure emerges, perched on the rooftop and another and another- all utterly motionless. They stare at me... seven sets of frozen eyes. In addition to Peekaboo Coon, two others are partially hidden- peering out from behind a perfectly coon-sized door into the attic of the main part of the house. They are so frighteningly motionless and fixed upon me, and I can't help but feel that, having interrupted them at the witching hour, there is a telepathic discussion going on that will decide my fate. Do the Russians know Wednesdays are "Seance on the Garage Roof Day"?
It is late, cool and damp in Sandy Hill. The hour nears midnight. I turn the corner, the river at my back now, stepping carefully over the ice. The tree to my left is gnarly and shiny black with moisture. There's movement! Branches shake at the top left corner of my vision, where the leafless tree meets the roof of one of many house-to-embassy conversions in our neighbourhood. This is the Russian Consular Office, and the Russian Consular Tree is shaking as a fat black cat ambles onto the roof, its stripey tail swinging for balanc- ...wait, a minute. It's a veritable rat-a-tat-a-COON! (anyone have a Kleenex?). So this is exciting. And then I look up a little further... and Trollface McCoonCat peers at me from the peak of the rooftop. Just his eyes and ears are showing, black against the black sky. Another black figure emerges, perched on the rooftop and another and another- all utterly motionless. They stare at me... seven sets of frozen eyes. In addition to Peekaboo Coon, two others are partially hidden- peering out from behind a perfectly coon-sized door into the attic of the main part of the house. They are so frighteningly motionless and fixed upon me, and I can't help but feel that, having interrupted them at the witching hour, there is a telepathic discussion going on that will decide my fate. Do the Russians know Wednesdays are "Seance on the Garage Roof Day"?
Hey Tadpole. Great blog. Love the way you write. Keep it up. Love, Dad (and of course, Lorena)
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