Saturday I was taking a break from doing critiques for my writing group and went to walk the dog. My neighbour and I noticed what we thought was the usual assortment of looky-loos on the pedestrian bridge to the marina. On sunny days they like to lean over the rails and stare at the boats. We both thought there were a few more observers than usual, but shrugged it off.
I continued up the ramp to the gate and saw that most of them didn't appear to be staring at the boats, but rather something on the dock. When I got close enough, I saw: a river otter.
Now this is probably anthropomorphizing, but that otter was a blatant exhibitionist. Perfectly aware of the 20 or so people staring at it, it put on a show. Writhing, rolling over, rubbing itself, having a great old time showing off, much to the dog's consternation. I could hear that low subsonic growl emanating from his throat, the kind that sounds like a far off train. I managed to keep him from barking though and the otter stuck around for a little while, humping and lumping up and down the dock, staring right back at the dog and essentially flipping him off.
I had to smile.
