LEAPITY!

On the edge of one's vision something moves. There is a scurrying in the fog, darker tendrils or shadows, and suddenly it is gone. It spied something edible perhaps. Or was frightened by a dog. A shape half remembered that disappeared from view nearly as soon as one saw it.
Reddish. With white areas.

There are no flying tree squirrels in San Francisco.
Sadly, the beast is not native to California.

Important word: patagium.
A furry membrane.

Copied from a mainland nature series. The googly eyes
and skull-like head colouration attracted me.

It lives in a hole in a tree.

The tail is nearly as long as the body.

If they were here, they'd possibly dwell in the taller trees near the top of the hill, underneath which irritating chihuahuas and the occasional pomerian are walked by their humans. After getting over their initial shyness, they'd beat the stuffing out of those repulsive beasts.
One would hope. They wouldn't need very much encouragement.


It's probably just below sixty degrees (°F) at present.
There were dogs out there when I went out.
Nasty icky little yippy fluffies.

Sadly, no squirrels.
Of any type.



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