Raccoon Paranoia

Sparky and I were making our normal late-night walk along 21st Street (these days, the best place to meet strange and exotic locals) when suddenly a bicyclist riding on the sidewalk came bursting from the darkness. His appearance was so abrupt I had to jump out of the way. He was about 21 years old and he had a skull emblem of some sort on his sweat shirt. As he passed, he shouted: "There is a raccoon right behind me!" Then, just as quickly, he vanished into the night.

Instantly, I knew he must be right. Raccoons are all about the neighborhood these days - I've watched them from the distance make evasive maneuvers to avoid Sparky and myself. But where was the raccoon? It was hard to see under the tree canopy next to the cemetery.

As I made my way forward along the darkened sidewalk to investigate, I presented Sparky with a dilemma. Should he follow his master along the sidewalk into what might be a mammalian danger zone, or should he instead turn right, down the alley, down the time-worn groove of the standard walk to get back home? Not much of a choice, really. Sparky shrugged his shoulders (if dogs can do such a thing) and headed down the alley towards the safety of home. I cut short my foray to be with him, and never saw the relentless raccoon lurking (no doubt) somewhere in the bushes beside the cemetery.