It’s very disconcerting to get up to pee in the middle of the night and find a wild animal in your house.
It’s not like it was a tiger or anything – it was just a raccoon – but still.
As I stumbled out of the bathroom, half asleep, I saw a small furry thing make a dash for the porch. My first thought, if you can call it that, was ‘cat.’ But it was the wrong shape, kind of hunched up in the middle. Raccoon.
A raccoon in the living room has a way of waking you up. “Hey!” I yelled at it. “It’s a CAT door!”
The raccoon made for it, and squeezed through.
By then, Kevin was out of bed. “What was it?” he asked.
I told him, and we went out on the porch. We saw the raccoon rejoin his two friends, and amble off into the woods. He didn’t even have the decency to run; that’s how unperturbed he was at being caught in our house.
It was only in the morning that I discovered that the kitchen floor was covered with paw prints and the cat food was gone.