More Than Just Cardboard Cutouts

We're at Cherokee Campground in Helena AL, and I'm struggling to multitask.

I hope no one is watching.

My two dogs zig-zag in front of me, braiding their leashes with the bag of trash I'm trying to carry.

They stop to sniff, their leashes go slack, the bag of trash is freed.

When we continue our walk, I hold the trash bag higher in one hand this time and their leashes together in the other. We look silly. I hope no one is watching.

But look. There. A man. It's dark. Yet still, he waves. Oh gee, he's waving at me? Why?

Oh wait. HA! It's not a man. It's one of those stupid cutouts, those painted-back silhouettes  people stick next to their mailbox, or on the side of their garage.

I don't see the need. In fact, I think it's quite, well impertinent. Startling me, unnecessarily. Making me think someone is watching me. To what end?

I walk by the wooden form, dump my trash and we head back to the motorhome for the night. We sleep.

The next morning, we head out for our morning walk down to the lake to see the geese, explore the campground. 

And immediately I see another stupid cut-out.  It's a cat, chasing a squirrel, along a bench.

It's kind of cute. Very well done. I smile.

We turn the corner. And look!  Goose cutouts mingling with real geese. And there's more. Bears, cubs, horses, dogs, more cats, squirrels, women, men, a whole community of shadow dwellers.

As we walk, we see them everywhere, silently going about their lives, chasing each other, watering their flowers, watching us.