The Wounded Raccoon

Posted on September 28, 2009


Animals At Their Worst

Funny story: My last legit job was at a pizza shop. The building was alongside a river, and we had raccoons living in the area. We were all guilty of feeding them. At times, they were brazen enough to come up on the shop’s back porch. Some people even fed them by hand. They ravaged the dumpster and garbage cans. A while back, the fat raccoon leader Rocco was on the porch when we came outside suddenly. We had him cornered on the balcony. He tried twice to gain the confidence to run past us. Then he decided he’d try climbing the rail and going around us. He was struggling. I could see in his eyes that he had not completely thought his options through. After receiving some encouragement about punishing this dirty little garbage thief, a coworker grabbed a long iron rod and started swatting him as he hung on. It took just two strikes to get him to lose his grip. He looked like a furry little backpack falling. He tumbled end over end as he sailed to the pavement; about 30 feet below. With a resounding smack sound, he landed and lay perfectly still. His head was resting on the very edge of a parking space stone. He twitched a little and lay still again. The guy felt bad; I didn’t give two shits about the vermin, but wished that if he planned on dying, he had done so in a less obvious place (not two feet from the storefront below us.) After about 40 seconds of joking and observing, Rocco slowly came to. He shook his head; he had literally been knocked unconscious by the fall. He got up, walking, not running like usual. You could tell he was trying to snap out of his daze; he staggered like a Jack Daniels man. Instead of scurrying back to the wooded riverfront, he unknowingly made a right turn; directly into the busy, crowded front parking lot on a well-populated street. I’ve seen him around and fed him since; he’s fine. (Don’t bother complaining; get yourself a gun and get justice for the animals, tough guy. I’ve got a history of caring for animals that goes way back; as well as a history of firing my OWN gun in self-defense.)


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