Larry was pacing. Leia was, too. I heard thuds on the roof and then I saw the beast devouring the fruit of our labors. Relentlessly chomping at the skin, tearing the flesh away to drink the cool, sweet juices of the over ripe orange.
So I took a picture. We may not have bears in our backyard, a la Laura Laramendi, but we do have squirrels. Wild beast that they are.