Got home from work a couple of nights ago and turned to look back to my car before closing the garage door to see a fat golden-tan and dark brown cat making to dash away, its back to me. Not one of the usual visitors, who tend to be gray and black with patches of white, so being a crazy-cat-lady-in-training, of course I sang out, "Well, hi there!"
At which point the "cat" turned and gave me a sheepish look, as if to say, "Um...yeah, lady, about that 'cat' thing? I'm workin' on it." It was not a cat but a smallish raccoon. It promptly skittered away on tiptoes and fingtertips, headed towards our neighbor's back yard. presumably to raid the cat food there.
It's probably not the same one I met back when I was first moving in, but it's got similar manners. Raccoons are clever, nimble and plenty strong. They thrive in the city and are almost impossible to get rid of, so we're lucky to have a fairly well-behaved tribe in the neighborhood instead of aggressive ones.
Update
3 days ago
4 comments:
Good thing it wasn't a pole cat!
My wife once stepped out on our porch for a quiet moment, and started petting Timmy, our outdoor cat. She thought his fur was a little scratchy, and when she looked down, she realized she had been petting the opossum that was raiding Timmy's food bowl.
I'm not sure who was more shocked.
That's a trans-cat cisraccoon, you insensitive clod. Your reference to him as "cat" in quotation marks speaks to your insulting disregard for the needs dismorphic wildlife everywhere.
I'm reminded of a funny, albeit racist, story that I heard once, about a 911 operator that got herself fired in style. Or not in style.
Certainly with very little class.
Anyway, a person called 911 hollering that there was "a COON in my garage!"
The operator, uncertain whether to roll code or call animal control, requested clarification:
"Do you mean a RACcoon, or a n-----?"
She was released from her duties that very night.
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