Raccoon Watching
-Yesterday-
“YO, COME DOWN RIGHT NOW,” bellowed August from downstairs. I was toiling at my computer when I heard the request and promptly bolted down the stairs. I followed his pointing finger, tracking it to the sliding glass door. Beyond the glass, a fluffy tail disappeared into the tree hollow. That moment set off a small and seemingly insignificant chain of events.
-The Raccoon-
As you have no doubt read the title, you are familiar with the creature that dodged my gaze.
The Raccoon has been the apple of my eye for some time now. Its Latin name, Procyon Lotor, which translates directly to “before-dog washer,” was given to it because of its tendency to douse food in water before consuming it. The wetting of the food allows them to magnify their tactile senses. They have an unbelievably powerful sense of touch, allocating over two thirds of their sensory processing power to that specific sense.
Raccoons are incredible for a litany of reasons, but their true beauty was revealed to me by TeamWood Games. In the wonderful iOS game, Super Auto Pets, one sets out to create the strongest team of five animals before sending them to battle against another team that has been hastily cobbled together by other cave dwellers around the world. The Raccoon’s ability in this game was to steal the food from the opposite pet, granting it a large head-to-head advantage while also being unique and exciting. It was only as strong as the foods it would steal, but boy was it a blast. It also looked adorable (see below). Then there are the Sly Cooper video games. I don’t have anywhere near the words available to properly encapsulate the impact that Sly the Raccoon had on mine and my brother's childhoods. I just really like Raccoons.
-The Man-
Enamored by its presence, I made haste towards the sliding glass door. I wasn’t sure of my goal; maybe I just wanted to witness it. I grabbed the suede chair stationed at the kitchen table and gently set it down in front of the sliding glass door as I assumed my post. A wave of excitement crashed over me, ready to come face to face with the magnificent beast.
Nothing.
After what felt like an eternity (5 minutes), August suggested we give it blueberries. Now I know that it is ill advised to feed a wild animal, but, to be frank, I did not care at that moment. I still don’t. I approached the base of the tree on my tiptoes, setting before me a mound of blueberries for the small mammal.
Nothing.
I dashed upstairs and grabbed my speaker. The light sounds of Ethiopian jazz swept over the surrounding area. A blanket of serenity had been draped over the moment. Sitting in front of the tree before me, no changes in the environment, your mind begins to wander. You’re pulled away for slivers of time, thinking of anything but where you are, and then suddenly-
There it was.
The ear had been revealed. It was the only sight I had had of the entity besides its tail on initial contact. It quickly peered out at the berries, curious, but not entirely tempted to leave its fortress. Perhaps it had seen The Fantastic Mr. Fox and was aware of the propensity humans have to poison blueberries. I don’t blame it for not indulging, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting. As I sat at the edge of the living room, peering out, my patience began to wane. What was I doing this for? Like I pondered above, what was my goal? Then I saw its mask peer out of the hollow.
Each sighting left me reinvigorated, that is, until the somnolence set in. What was 5 p.m. became 6:30. My hands rubbed my weighted eyelids open. I sprang up, aware of my blunder. The blueberries? Still in position. The tree hollow? Empty.
How could I have slept? Does any of this even matter?
-The Universe-
It is theorized that there are an infinite number of universes, each with its own story to tell.
If this is the case, then in one of these universes I am walking down the street right now. By my side, Sylvester (Sly for short), my raccoon companion. As I drop blueberries beside me, he follows diligently, thanking me by making whatever sound a raccoon makes. Over the coming weeks we grow close; to call him a pet feels reductive; Sly has become a friend. He prefers to reside in the tree hollow at night until, after a few weeks, he finally succumbs to the allure of the doggie bed I purchased for him at Sam’s Club. I lie on the couch; he lays on his bed as we watch whatever movie happened to capture my attention that night. He sits beside me on long car rides, has a blast whenever he sees his pal Hercules at home, and always strays off the beaten path to look for trash during our walks.
Eventually though, he has to leave. He has desires to start his own family, and that can’t happen under my watchful eye. For weeks there is no trace; he’s somewhere out there, left to his own devices. Weeks become months, and months become years. Then, one day, out of the corner of my eye I spot a fluffy tail disappearing into the tree hollow. I grab a mound of blueberries and place them at the base of the tree. Like clockwork, I fall asleep in the chair again, but this time when I awake the blueberries are gone. In their place, four sets of raccoon tracks.
-Epilogue-
-The Cat-
I woke up this morning, the blueberries still there; but instead of the raccoon in the tree, a cat stood stoically on the cement. It ate one blueberry, turned away, and left.
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