10:21 a.m. - 2003-07-03
Raccoons for Breakfast
You know, it's just so reassuring to me that there are people in the world who are even nuttier than I am. Just when I think that I am the only person who would rescue a stinking, flea-infested, pregnant feral cat, I meet somebody who regularly has breakfast with racoons.
In her dining room.
Yesterday I was out picking mint for the bunnies when I noticed traffic was stopping for something in the road. I couldn't see what was going on but then a woman pulled her car over and got out, and I realised she was trying to catch two little terrier dogs who were wandering around the intersection.
Me being me, I ran out to help her.
She managed to catch one of the dogs, but the other was growling and snapping. Try as we might, we couldn't get the poor puppy to trust us, and it ran off down the street.
"I'll go call Animal Control!" I yelled, as the woman, whose name turned out to be Linda, ran off after him.
Animal Control informed me it could take them a few minutes to come because they were trying to catch a vicious boxer on L & N street.
(Yes, we have a street called L & N. Please note that it isn't L AND N, it's L &-as-in-ampersand N street. What do the L and N stand for? Ummmmm....)
Anyway, I grabbed Miss Bunny's carrier, which is big enough for a terrier, and ran back toward where I had last seen Linda and the other pooch. I had gotten about a block when I saw her running back towards me, with the terrier we had managed to catch in hand.
"I lost the other one!" she moaned. "But I have chicken in my car! I'm going to drive back down there and see if I can find him and lure him with the chicken!'
"Ok, I'll take this guy and he can hang out in my garage!" We got the first terrier into the carrier (I'm sure Miss Bunny will never forgive me for the clinging dog smell) and I took him back to the house. After a long drink of water and a towel wrapped around a frozen bottle of water (I keep them in the freezer for just such emergencies - it's hotter than Hell here) the little guy calmed right down. He was actually a cutie. I started wishing that I was in the market for a dog.
About this time, Linda returned. She had circled the area a number of times, but the terrier was nowhere to be seen. We started talking about various animals we've rescued and how she lived close by on Bluewood Avenue and how fantastic all the wildlife in the area is.
She told me there are actually quite a number of foxes in the neighborhood and one of them had had kits in her neighbor's back yard. During the day the kits would come out and play on her neighbor's swimming pool deck.
Linda also had a bunch of racoons. "I LOVE them!" she beamed. "They eat out of my hand!"
"Wow! Aren't you nervous about them? They can be pretty nasty!" Alvin has told me enough scary stories about wild raccoons that I have a healthy respect for them. Any animal that can disconnect your hand from your body within half a minute is just not something I take lightly.
"Oh, it took awhile to get where I trusted them." Linda was warming up to the subject. "I never go near them without food in my hand. Why, now they're so tame, they come in and have breakfast with me every morning! Especially my Petunia!"
Petunia?
"Yes, I named her Petunia! I just love her! She comes into the dining room and has her cookies! She's just so cute! She takes her cookies out of my hand and then she sits and eats them just like a little girl! And she never bothers my cats."
Linda's eyes took on the dreamy yet ecstatic look that I normally only see on Pentacostal Christians talking about the coming Rapture. It occured to me that her Petunia is tamer than Burma. When I told Linda this she got very excited.
"I have a feral, too!" she exclaimed. "She's completely tame now!"
So we had this long discussion about taming feral cats. It was great for me, because I realised Burma is, in fact, following classic feral cat patterns and, really, is about where she should be at this point. In fact, she is probably taming faster than Linda's cat, who took a year to let Linda touch her. Burma will let us touch her a little bit, and also sleeps on the bed with us now.
Linda was quite impressed.
About this time the Animal Control officer showed up. He asked us all kinds of questions about the dogs and seemed very concerned about catching the other terrier. "Because he's separated from his buddy, now! He's gonna' be lonely!" Huntsville Animal Control, from my scant experiences with them, seem to be real animal lovers.
Sigh. You know, I often think the world is going to hell in a handbasket. And then I realise there are people like this around and I should be way more hopeful. I mean, Linda was obviously a pretty well-off lady, with her expensive jogging suit and what I am sure was a big ritzy house on Bluewood, and here she is chasing after terriers and having breakfast with raccoons.
Take heart, Peoples!! It's not so bad out there!
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