I’m detoxing from caffeine right now, so you’ll have to settle for low-rent entertainment for a couple of days.
Anyway, today I learned that raccoons don’t have a very good sense of smell. I was sitting outside around midnight staring at nothing when I saw four huge raccoons heading from the woods to the dumpster. This is something I see most nights walking to and from work, so it was a predictable sort of entertainment and when they got out of sight I paid them no further mind. Well, maybe I should have because thirty seconds later one of them popped around the corner and suddenly I was sitting less than two feet away from four twenty-pound furballs full of claws and teeth. The option of making noise to scare them off was suddenly untenable, because they might have gotten a little too excited and left me with some souvenirs.
That left me with the options to fight, flee, or freeze. I froze and tried to keep my fear down to avoid giving off that particular scent while they explored my feet and ankles. Clearly this spot was part of their nightly routine because they were very curious about this new piece of scenery. One of them pawed gently at my shins to figure out what I was (two thirds of a coon’s sensory cortex is dedicated to interpreting touch), and maybe deciding whether to climb up into my lap. Not on the first date, young lady! Another stood on his hind legs to get a better look at me.
Luckily, they left after a minute or so without starting any trouble. Otherwise I might have had to destroy them with my street fighting skills. I go all out man, you don’t even know, it’s way more intense than your pajama krotty.