Raccoon Whisperer

There’s no story, whoever you are.

I’m the raccoon whisperer; I tell no lies.

It started over twenty years ago when I met a raccoon.

He looked smooth, cute too; a nice fella.

I called him Rascal except that he turned up to be different.

I fed him at least three times every evening and night.

I stayed with him until he left to go home.

One evening he brought his little ones.

That’s when I figured he was a she.

I love Rascal perhaps too much.

But she remains the mother of a clan many years later.

They wait for me every evening and night.

I feed them well; some of them want to live with me.

I’ve seen the little ones grow to become wiser ones.

I’ve had nights with over twenty-five raccoons.

I feed them well; I’m fully stocked.

The meal has at least three parts.

Premium dog kibble, about a kilo, is the appetizer.

Chicken dogs, about ten dozens, are part of the main meal,

with a pound of unsalted peanuts to set the mood for dessert.

Cream-in-the-middle cookies — they love the cream — is the first dessert.

They separate the cookies’ halves and eat the cream first — all of them.

Grapes — lots of grapes — they love grapes — come next.

It’s a pleasure to watch them eat them.

They raise their heads when they eat the grapes.

Perhaps to keep the juice from running over their masks.

Then they receive some cereal like Cheerios.

I love their noses; I love their heads;

I love their feline tails; I love when they stand up.

They seem to respect me.

Maybe they think I’m God.

I’m not.

Maybe they consider me to be their dad, and mom.

I’m already the babysitter.

Rascal and many after her have left me their young and have left for hours.

I played with them; they love the cat string attached to a ball.

I named many of them over the years.

I see them for many months; some remain for years.

Rascal died in 2017.

She was over 13.

In the wild, raccoons may reach 5.

I’m the raccoon whisperer; I tell no lies.

My porch is a raccoon diner; that’s what the signs say.

Open sometimes until 4 like the moon.

I don’t sleep much; I love raccoons.

...

There is actually a Raccoon Whisperer channel on YouTube that inspired most of this raccoon verselet. The Raccoon Whisperer’s life is full of life. He is the Jane Goodall of raccoons. Each one is a character. Fiction, here! Real, there!