The Sciurian Collective

As dictated by my dog, Arrow

My Master said I could write to you. Some of you may be Masters and Mistresses who belong to a Smooth Collie. He feels you might benefit from some of my advice and experiences.

My name is Arrow. I am House Guardian, Person Warden and Seeker of Tree Rats and I live in Tunbridge Wells in southern England. Like me, you may have humans to look after. It doesn’t matter whether they are men or women. They try hard, but are not very bright, I’m afraid.

By way of example, when it is time for my dinner, I walk up to my human and engage my Collie Brain Meld for just a few seconds. If there is no apparent response, I have to Woof gently to attract attention. This generally elicits the question, “Is it time for your dinner, then”?

Honestly. I’m treated like a child, sometimes. I have discovered that if I sit while the food is being prepared, humans seem especially pleased. I don’t think they have evolved very far from their simian ancestors.

But all of this is background about me. Your collie may have a similar upbringing.

My main reason for writing is to take this opportunity of spreading a dire warning about the Sciurian Collective. All collies know this well, of course, as our mothers and fathers told us stories of the history of this secret society which has existed for at least 40 million years. The hideous beings in this collective are similar to rodents, but are capable of other-worldly things, like rotating their ankles 180 degrees, they hide all their food beneath the ground when the weather is cold and run in a zig zag pattern.

They are dedicated to taking over the world and only a few humans seem to understand how dangerous they are. Or rather, this small group recognises a tiny part of the threat these creatures present. All are humans whose work involves trees, either as woodsmen or arboriculturalists.

They have witnessed the effects on the trees of the messages which members of the collective leave for each other. Writing the messages involves removal of tree bark. Sometimes, when the messages are long, bark is removed around the whole tree, so it dies. These simple humans just think it is teenage Collective members who vandalise their own neighbourhood. Like humans, you see. But bark stripping is not the total of the damage wrought by these beasties — the truth is much, much worse. It is clear that the Time of Takeover draws near.

Ask yourself: have you seen more and more of these creatures in your garden? Is your local park or woodland overrun? Have you ever walked beneath an oak tree and had an acorn flung at you? Be honest — you have, haven’t you?

These are softening-up operations, designed to test your weaknesses. They want to acclimatise you to being peppered with missiles. When they launch their bid for power, you won’t notice the nuts laced with poison or try to remove those primed to explode. What will you do if the exhaust pipe of your car is stuffed with exploding acorns? How will you communicate when the telephone junction boxes and mobile phone masts are out of action? Trains cannot run if the power cables to their rails have been gnawed through. Nor can electric cars. What soldier can fight off a river of grey Sciurian warriors pouring out of a nearby tree?

So the next time your smooth collie dashes after a squirrel, remember he or she is just trying to save the human race.

Next month: my favourite recipe for Tree Rat Stew.

My name again is Arrow. Heed my warning before it is too late.

A rare picture of a Sciurian Warrior