on August 5, 2011 by Mitchel Jonas in Stories, Comments (0)

The Raccoon Dancer

Editors note: Although this story is entirely true, some names have been changed to protect the innocent!

Last night I became very inebriated; I had drunk red wine, Ancient Age brand whiskey, and a couple of IPAs. I had a nice good buzz going after I had spent the night hanging out at a couple dive bars with my friend and his girl, and a couple other people. The night hastily wrapped up right around 2. As my friend was getting text after text from his anxious girl waiting for his rod, I waved bye to him as I went my own way.

Two thirds of the way home I encountered a raccoon, not particularly an uncommon site in Sacramento, the “river city”. This one seemed different, it seemed curious, also it reminded me of my old cat “Mr. Booker.” In my mind this somehow “sealed the deal.” I got on all fours and started to crawl towards my new wild friend. To my surprise he started heading right over towards me. At this point my mind started racing, what if he had rabies, what if he clawed the fucking shit right out of my face and tears an eyeball out? I used my animal-profiling skills and decided that he was “safe.”

I was in the front yard of a Victorian house which are all over the place here in Sacramento, if any casual observer would have seen me, they would have immediately called the cops. I was in many different position(s); I was thinking what would be least confrontational stance to my new friend. I decided mainly with the low-head-crawl technique that I once learned when reading a book I wrote titled “How to Greet Wild Animals” We at times came very close to each other, almost to the point where I could reach out and pet him, it was climaxing to a point of no return. Would I be the first person I know of to actually pet a wild raccoon and live to tell the tale? As we “hung out” in the front yard and the side yard of this bountiful house, I started to ease up; the adrenaline was beginning to subside.

Just as we started to really connect (I was making clicking noises at him, in some primitive attempt to communicate) he started to venture off. My guess is that he or she had some kids at home to feed, or he was out looking for a quick fuck, and when he realized I didn’t have a ready raccoon pussy he bounced, but either way I walked with him slowly as he headed to his favorite tree to roost. I waved at him as he slowly walked up. He gave me one last look and scurried on up out of site. Bonds were made that night, although I didn’t get to pet him, I indeed feel much closer to nature now.

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