This happened some years ago after we’d first arrived at our new home. I was relaxing on Sue’s desk and had just finished cleaning my toes under the fading light of winter sun….
when I felt a strange tingling in my neck and had the sense I was being watched. I turned around and saw black eyes peering at me through the window.
I was not afraid, no not me, but Sue came unglued and started yelling, “Bob! There’s a raccoon on our roof!”
The next thing you know Bob’s pumping up the BB gun, running outside and firing away to scare off that old bandit. I must admit it took me quite awhile to settle down after all the commotion but settle down I did and I choose to have a short memory about such things.
So there really were raccoons. It made me wonder what else was out there. You see, up till then we’d always been “indoor cats.” I even hate the name, no offense to the rest of the kingdom. In all of our previous lives, we were never allowed to go outside – no, not even a short walk in a fenced yard. Never allowed to hunt in the wild like our ancestors did or jump high in the air to grab one of those winged creatures. Just playing you understand. We mean no harm. Instead we had to content ourselves with the stray spider in the house, the slow moving housefly or worse yet, chittering away through windows at crows and squirrels who would come by and taunt us.
Well, I thought, this raccoon may set back our efforts to ever go outside. Still, we vowed to continue working on it until we could wear them down. Day by day, we would stand by the sliding glass door and cry pitifully and with sad eyes. And we made promises to stay inside the fence and to always come in at night when called. (Yeah, uh-huh.) And as the days grew longer and the sun grew brighter and the squirrels began running frantically to and fro, begging us to come out and play, Bob and Sue FINALLY opened the door. And for that we will always be grateful.