One day last week I had a visitor again. He’s been here 3 or 4 times now, so I decided he needed to have a name.
Now, as you know, naming something is serious business. After all, that name will hang on for the rest of its life and you want to be sure to choose a name that will not cause embarrassment or grief to its owner. So I gave it serious thought – Henry, maybe? Or Horace? Maybe Albert? No, none of those seemed appropriate. Then it came to me! John Doe! Yes! With a little “tee hee”, of course. I thought myself very clever.
John came, he looked around,
he saw, he indulged.
The table had been set for the squirrels and the birds, but John was most welcome to join us. As long as he doesn’t indulge himself on my flowers this summer, of course.
He stayed for quite awhile, posing prettily for me. He was allowed to stay for awhile this visit because the big furry girls were napping and were unaware we had a guest. I’m quite sure they would not view John as an acceptable visitor, but sometimes I do not tell them everything I know.
John had his fill and ambled off in a leisurely fashion.
I’m sitting in my warm, dry home on this rainy day, wondering what John and his counterparts are doing on this day. Do they mind getting wet? Do they find shelter under trees and in the scrub to stay comfortable?
I have not seen him since that day. I wonder – has he taken offense at my choice of a name for him? Perhaps he doesn’t see the humor that I saw in that choice. Perhaps he’s sensitive about his masculinity. Or maybe he has decided my table is not his favorite and has found somewhere that offers preferred delicacies.
John Doe, where have you gone?