Wild Kingdom
I defy anyone to tell me they feel at ease when awoken in the small hours by something going bump in the night. Particularly if the bump in question happens to be a clamor and rattling coming from the back door, located a mere five or six feet from their bed.
Which is exactly what happened to me this morning at about 3:30 AM, and the not-being-at-ease part was why I reached under the bed for the burglar stick (read: Louisville Slugger) I keep parked there. It was a loud clamor coming from the door, a certified fucking ruckus, and in my sleep-drugged state I was wondering who would be crazy enough to try and break in through the back door in such a loud and obvious manner? What kind of lunatic was capering about the deck at this unholy hour? Didn't anyone else hear this shit?
The noise stopped as I reached the door. I listened for a moment, then flipped up the shade. Nothing out there.
Nothing except for the big ass raccoon, heading away from me and the door, walking along the railing in a leisurely manner. He was big - like dog-size big.
Weird, I thought. What was he doing there? There are no trash cans, no garbage on the deck, nothing likely to attract a raccoon's notice. And why all the attention to the back door? Was he trying to break into my apartment? In my half-awake state I pondered questions and thoughts that would be absurd in the harsh light of day: are raccoons 'advanced' enough to plan and execute a B & E? Perhaps some odor of food had drifted through the door and driven the raccoon into a frenzy? Maybe it was an evil, satanic raccoon that meant me no good.
In my experience, weirdness tends to snowball. So I shouldn't have been the least bit surprised when the raccoon returned, just as I was about to fall asleep again. And I really shouldn't have been surprised when I raised the blind to find the big son-of-a-bitch hanging off the outside door jamb, about half away up the door, staring back at me through the glass. We stared at each other for a good five minutes before he backed down the door and ambled across the deck into the early morning dark, this for good.
And if I thought you'd believe me I'd tell you I could've sworn that raccoon nodded at me before beginning his climb down. But that would be impossible, right?
Which is exactly what happened to me this morning at about 3:30 AM, and the not-being-at-ease part was why I reached under the bed for the burglar stick (read: Louisville Slugger) I keep parked there. It was a loud clamor coming from the door, a certified fucking ruckus, and in my sleep-drugged state I was wondering who would be crazy enough to try and break in through the back door in such a loud and obvious manner? What kind of lunatic was capering about the deck at this unholy hour? Didn't anyone else hear this shit?
The noise stopped as I reached the door. I listened for a moment, then flipped up the shade. Nothing out there.
Nothing except for the big ass raccoon, heading away from me and the door, walking along the railing in a leisurely manner. He was big - like dog-size big.
Weird, I thought. What was he doing there? There are no trash cans, no garbage on the deck, nothing likely to attract a raccoon's notice. And why all the attention to the back door? Was he trying to break into my apartment? In my half-awake state I pondered questions and thoughts that would be absurd in the harsh light of day: are raccoons 'advanced' enough to plan and execute a B & E? Perhaps some odor of food had drifted through the door and driven the raccoon into a frenzy? Maybe it was an evil, satanic raccoon that meant me no good.
In my experience, weirdness tends to snowball. So I shouldn't have been the least bit surprised when the raccoon returned, just as I was about to fall asleep again. And I really shouldn't have been surprised when I raised the blind to find the big son-of-a-bitch hanging off the outside door jamb, about half away up the door, staring back at me through the glass. We stared at each other for a good five minutes before he backed down the door and ambled across the deck into the early morning dark, this for good.
And if I thought you'd believe me I'd tell you I could've sworn that raccoon nodded at me before beginning his climb down. But that would be impossible, right?
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