© Fran C 2015

The sun beat down as I walked to work under a clear blue sky. A gentle breeze blew my hair, playing it across my face and I absentmindedly tucked my hair behind an ear. As I walked, I heard a crunching underfoot and I glanced down and scowled. All across the pavement was the detritus from a visitor to our shores. I walked carefully, aware that the broken detritus might damage my shoes. The bushes rustled and I thought I espied our visitor but he hid from me. I’ve tried to be friends with this visitor and have even spoken to him, but he just pelts me with his rubbish. Nice way to act!

Later, I heard a vehicle driving over the rubbish and wondered why they don’t sweep it up. I guess they’re just going to wait until it decomposes, though that could take some time. Sometimes, when it’s windy, their mess is blown all over the grass. I know some people don’t mind them, but I’m glad they don’t live near me.

Many years ago I came across a similar visitor; he was lying under a tree sunning himself. My dog tried to befriend him but he didn’t like that one bit, and when I tried to help him he viciously attacked me. I needed hospital treatment after the attack, which some nurses found amusing, but I’ve been very wary of these visitors ever since. When you try to help, and one assaults you, why wouldn’t you be wary? The doctor was very kind and stated that they can be very dirty and he gave me a shot, just to be safe.

Today it’s raining and I wonder if he’s keeping dry and warm. Where does he live when the weather turns bad? Will he survive if we have a hard winter? I don’t why I worry, it’s not like there aren’t loads of these visitors and he does have a warm coat. When I start to feel sympathetic towards them, I glance at the scar on my finger. I know we shouldn’t tar them all with the same brush but once bitten, as they say.

Today the rain has washed away much of the rubbish and the path is clear again, for now at least. I hate to think what this rubbish is doing to the drains. There’s no sign of the immigrant either and I guess he’s hiding from the rain. Once the sun comes out again he’ll be back, dropping his rubbish, and trying to hit us with it, just for devilment. I’m sure he derives a secret pleasure from the mess he creates and certainly makes no attempt to clean it up. The path will once again be littered and I’ll have to watch where I walk. Who would have thought that a grey squirrel could make so much mess…