Dear Urchins,I would venture to say that I like you more than anyone else in this neighbourhood likes you, since every building is plastered with 'No Ball Game' signs and the other childless adults often come out of their homes to admonish you for breathing too loudly.
Evidence suggests that I even like you more than your own parents do, given that they allow you to roam the streets unsupervised from the time you are able to walk, give you dog- rather than people-names (Deniro and Princess are both popular choices locally), and dress you for maximum predation potential in tiny plastic high heels and mini-skirts or low-riding jeans and T-shirts with slogans like 'Chicks Dig Me', as your gender dictates.
I don't mind passing the time of day with you, or throwing your ball back, or finding one of your alleged 'parents' for you when you've skinned your knee and are bawling in the street. I don't mind bringing my dogs out for you to pet, and I don't even get annoyed when you follow me into my home uninvited when I come back from the grocery store, although I do try to get you out of there as quickly as possible, because darn it, Urchins, it isn't safe for you to think that you can wander into any random house with impunity. Not everyone is as nice as I am, Urchins. Plus, I have no doubt that if you succeed in your apparent goal of breaking into my ferret cage and one of them bit you, your 'parents' would attempt to sue my pants off.
My husband assures me that the free-range environment is considered best practice for British Urchins, so I do do not contact the UK CPS. Still, I do worry about you and try to encourage not to eat glass, rugby-tackle cars or listen to Justin Beiber.
And, yet, Urchins, despite our hitherto cordial relationship, even I am getting a bit fed up with your urchining. I know that you are very young and very bored and almost entirely feral, but still, dear Urchins, I must believe that even you possess some basic understanding of the concept of time.
Thus, when on Saturday I was trying to get the house ready to show to some prospective buyers and I told you that I could not bring my dogs out to play with you because it was 'not a good time', I expected that you would understand the word 'time' to extend beyond the immediate five-minute-period following your request. Apparently, this was not the case, as evidenced by your returning within said period to repeat your request. And then returning again after ten minutes. And again.
Urchins, I'm sorry, but I'm very busy trying to sell my house at the moment, so that I can move to an Urchin-free zone -- wait a minute. I begin to see daylight. Is that your game, Urchins? Are you attempting to sabotage my attempts to get the hell out of here? It seems I've underestimated how much you enjoy having access to my pets. Well played, Urchins. Well played.
But this isn't over, Urchins. Not by a long shot.
Ms. Mehitabel
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