Upon receiving my cousin’s wedding invitation, I turned into a cartoon villain. Fingers and brows tented, I smirked. “Excellent,” I said. With that invitation, I had reason to go to Maine, the only state east of the Mississippi River I’d never set foot in and home to Acadia National Park, an almost 50,000-acre wonderland of rugged and rocky Atlantic coastline, woodlands, lakes and ponds. Excellent, indeed.
And the feeling is mutual. Critters seem to love me too. There have been bat, possum, raccoon and bird adventures in the past few years and then there’s the neighborhood stray cats – all spayed and neutered – who I’ve been feeding for a handful of years and who, really, I count as good friends.
So, really, I like critters. I love them. They are my friends. And that’s why it shouldn’t be any sort of surprise that visiting the seals of La Jolla during a recent trip to San Diego was on the top of my to-do list, right next to “EAT ALL THE TACOS.”
I know there are people from places where seals just live, but I am not from one of those places. I am an East Coast cat, Virginia born and bred, and we don’t have seals just chilling on a city beach doing their seal thing. That is not real life for me and so, upon meeting the seals of La Jolla and upon seeing that there were seals EVERYWHERE, I freaked the fuck out.
BECAUSE SEALS, YOU GUYS. SEALS! JUST BEING SEALS AND DOING SEAL THINGS.
Also, there were seal pups. So it was seals and seal pups and the beautiful and perfect California coast and that was enough for this Virginia girl to smile so hard my face hurt by the end of the day.
That you can get so close to these wild creatures, these goofy and amazing sea creatures, is amazing to me. You just walk down some stairs and there they are. Seals.
The plan was to wander around La Jolla a little bit, but I couldn’t pull myself away from my new friends. I just crouched next to them and stared at them as they sunned themselves and napped and just lived their ridiculous seal lives.