MY PHOTO JOURNAL

I never though I'd live to see the day that my mother would call me a nasty little animal. True, I was impatient to get my dinner and whistled and nipped her ankle to hurry her up. Also true, that I nipped harder than I intended. Equally, true, I refused to apologize when an apology was demanded. Hey, we raccoons never apologize. Dogs maybe grovel and look remorseful, but not a macho raccoon. But I never expected that she would stoop so low as to call me a nasty little animal. Let me tell you, she's no Miss Merry Sunshine herself. And besides, there wasn't much blood spilled.

I can guarantee you that gluttony is a sin. I was a glutton and a sinner today, and I'm certainly paying for it. I outsmarted the mother and got 2 bowls of cat food. I ate them both. I have a bellyache and the runs to boot. This is the pits. It's enough to make one contemplate delayed gratification and moderation.

Do you think there is such a thing as a hearing aid for a coon? I really need one. Mom came upstairs when she came home from the city and found me digging the shit out of her new mattress on the big bed. I didn't hear her coming or I'd have played possum (or at least napping coon). She yanked back the covers, and there I was with a handful of evidence. What could I do? I did the only thing I could think of, I growled. She was not happy.

Each Sunday, the parents go outside on coon turd patrol. The outdoor coons have been leaving piles at the various doors. That gave me an idea. This week I've been hiding my turds. It's driving the mother nuts. At first, I was hoping she thought I was constipated so I'd get some cream, or even a bit of cottage cheese. No such luck. She wasn't fooled for a minute. But it is a hoot having both parents on turd patrol inside the house too. Each day I leave them in a different spot. If I can, I put something on top of them like a throw rug or toy so they won't be noticeable.