For me, squirrels walk a very fine line between cute and loathsome. On most days, their fuzzy little tails and plaintively beady little eyes are not enough to overcome the traumatic memory of the day i discovered a big hole gnawed through my window screen and an industrious squirrel sitting in the middle of my kitchen table trying to rip apart a bakery bag and steal my chocolate croissant.
This little guy embodies the full range of squirrelness: looking directly at me, filled with cautious curiosity, wondering if i'm going to toss him some food or shoot him. Is he, like the rest of us, just looking for a little relief from the oppressive heat in the shade of a transformer box? Or did i catch him in the act of some suicidal trickster mission to blow out the transformer and let the humans suffer in the un-airconditioned darkness?