JF and I were watching TV in bed early last night, just being lazy on a chilly (to us) and rainy Saturday, when suddenly, we heard a loud "THUMP!" outside on our front walkway. Now, our house is surrounded by trees -- so much so, that if you try to Google Earth our house, you see one sliver of house, and mostly trees -- and we often hear pinecones thudding to earth during windy days. But, this wasn't a pinecone. It would have had to have been a giganto-cone in order to make the thud we heard.
JF went to the front door to investigate. "Uh....hon? Could you come here?" I got up and went to the front door, only to see JF with his nose pressed against the glass of the storm door. "It was a raccoon!, " he said, and pointed out towards the rainy night beyond our front steps. Lying on our walkway was a very stunned middle-sized raccoon. At first, we thought he had fallen off of our roof. This was a likely scenario, as we've seen raccoons up there before, drawn by the cat food we left outside for Blackie, our extra kitteh, and by the honey birdseed cake we hang in the big cedar tree right at the front of our house.
The poor little guy tried to stand up, but his hind leg wasn't working properly, and he fell over. He struggled to get oriented for a few minutes. JF and I both felt bad because we wanted to help him, but there was no way of knowing if he'd attack in his pained state, or if he was rabid or not. He seemed fairly calm, but then again, so did Cujo at first. I walked off to go to the bathroom, and JF wandered around to make sure both of the kittehs were safely inside. When we came back to the storm door, Mister Raccoon had disappeared. JF checked in the yard, all of the shrubs, and under both of our cars -- no raccoon. He was not moving very fast, so he probably didn't venture across the street.... As we sat there, pondering where he went, a large SPLAT! hit the pavement. It looked like vomit, to be honest. JF traced the trajectory, and up in the cedar tree, he saw four pairs of glowing eyes staring back at him.
We think maybe Mr. Raccoon was up in the tree to begin with, and fell out somehow. Maybe the branches were slippery from the rain. And, our cedar tree exudes this orange-y colored jelly instead of sap, so maybe he slipped on that. After his fall, he crawled back up the tree to where his "family" was, so they could take care of him. We think the vomit-y stuff was either him being sick after the fact, or a warning for us not to get too close, or it could have even been excrement, where he literally got the crap knocked out of him.
We just hope he's okay. I can just hear the raccoon gossip network..."Frank got so drunk the other night, he fell right out of the tree! Scared some poor human family out of their minds! That'll teach him to drink that cheap malt liquor!"
My final exam was tonight, and I am now finished with Fall Quarter! Of course, I will have to wait for the "official" grades, but I'm pretty sure I made an "A" on the final -- only missed one question (worth one-half of a point) out of the 50 questions, and that means that I make an "A" in the course! Sweet!
I have a long break, thank all the gods who are and ever were. We don't begin Winter Quarter until January 4th! That gives me a good bit of time to get rested and grow back the clumps of hair that I've pulled out during this quarter. My class was interesting, but it's hard to go sit in a classroom for two and a half hours after you've worked a full day.
Major, major props go out to JF who kept the family fed and in clean clothing during this quarter. I knew there were many reasons that I loved him, but he worked a full day EVERY DAY to come home and clean, wash dishes and clothes, and feed us every Monday, Wednesday, and some jam-packed Thursdays. Thank you, love. You are special to me, in many, many ways, and this is only one of them
I will keep you all updated to the official stats once they come in, and I expect to be blogging (and on Facebook) more now that I'm not buried under a mountain of school stuff.
My city is totally screwy. Things happen here that do not happen in "normal" places. I think it's a combination of all the liquor we collectively imbibe, the funky art-school aura, and the damned humidity.
Here's a small example of what I'm talking about:
This photo was taken a few weeks ago at a Mickey D's in my town. Now, either the workers are a) too goofy to notice they've misspelled their own item, or b) did it on purpose, in which case they're out of a job, or c) someone else tampered with the sign. Sadly, all given choices are within the realm of possibility.
When you all think I exaggerate about life in this little burg, look at this picture, and think again....