And learned to love the raccoon. Ok, maybe coexist peacefully would be a better term. Especially since the vegetable beds and the pots had filled in enough that the raccoon would have to work awfully hard to get to the dirt. So he didn’t bother me, I didn’t bother him.
Until yesterday, when I was out on the porch and heard a weird sound coming from the woodshed, where we feed the barn cats. And all the barn cats were awfully poofy and freaked out looking. After a few minutes of watching, I saw something that much too big to be a cat, even if it has brown tabby markings, going running away from the woodshed.
Obviously, the raccoon’s back. The good news is he didn’t disturb any of my plants or attack any of the cats. The bad news is that I saw him in broad daylight. And he disappeared before Dad got the gun out, because now he’s quite likely a rabid rat-bastard raccoon.
