It was here that I saw him last Sunday evening. Hubby and I had stepped out for a walk. It was high tide and the setting sun cast a warm glow over the horizon. Feeling lazy and totally goalless, we sat down on an edge of the promenade, our legs dangling over – almost touching the water. That’s when I spotted him sauntering over. I felt a little sorry for him. He looked unkempt and unloved. He hesitated and then turned away. Nimble and sure footed he went down to the rocks jutting out from beneath the water. For a minute he stood silhouetted against the setting sun, looking strong and very, very lonely. And then it happened. In a flash his face was in the water and he emerged victorious, a dead fish dangling from his jaws. For the next 10 minutes we watched fascinated as he carefully and systematically dined, beginning at the tail and going right up to the head. Strangely, watching him eat, hubby and I started speaking in whispers, almost as if wishing to not disturb him.
A warm, happy feeling began to creep up on us. We both love animals. And were very comforted by the thought that at least one stray would sleep well fed that night.