Rocky Raccoon

I hadn’t planned on adopting Rocky — and I have certain misgivings when he’s around (for one thing, he’s like the bad roommate that has a hard time respecting boundaries and will eat your food in the refrigerator if you don’t put your foot down). But it’s hard to turn down a hungry face. And behind that thievin’ black mask are the eyes of a pleading — and maybe even desperately hungry — soul. And more soulful than you might expect when you look closely at his eyes, from a creature that can also have the bearing of a ruthless shark at the same time.

I fixed Rocky a couple cans of chicken noodle soup and a can of beef cat food. Which he scarfed down. I know I’ll probably end up regretting this at some point (raccoons can be like the people who “mistake kindness for weakness”). And he’s already getting overly friendly to the point where he comes right up to the edge of my blankets, like he’s thinking of making himself at home and jumping right on board alongside Mini Scaredy. Oh well.

After eating he circled around behind me, where I couldn’t see him, like he was thinking of sneaking into my stuff in search of more food the second my back was turned. Which was exactly what he was thinking. I turned around and gave him a hard look, pointed my finger at him and said: “NO! GO! GO!!” He hesitated for a bit — he’s still hoping for more food. Gave me the pleading look again. Before he finally went wearily plodding back down the trail from whence he came. . . I’m not sure how much you can “train” a wild animal like a raccoon. Guess I’ll find out.

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