First, a brief mention of you-know-what: I was walking down Main St. in Boulder Creek, when I came across a board outside of a crafts store with the actual FBI wanted poster for bin Laden. Aside from the "d'oh!" factor ("considered armed and extremely dangerous"...do you think?) there were stats you don't ordinarily hear on the news...like his height and weight.
Hmm? Oh, it's 6'6", 160 pounds. For some reason I thought he would be shorter.
Anyway, after a successful day in town where I was able to get everything I needed for dinner and fixing the stupid PVC drain under the sink, I brought my booty home to finish cleaning the house in advance of Roni's visit this weekend. It's the first time in 7 months she's made it up here, and I wanted to at least have my room clean.
Last night, after Rob fed Mary (an outdoor cat that's adopted us against our will) there was a bit of excitement. Apparently a very large raccoon took it upon herself to eat Mary's kibble. Now, we've known Mary to consort with raccoons in the past (she and the 'coons love to torture Bijou, one of our indoor cats, through the french doors in the back), but this was obviously not a voluntary incident.
What surprised me was the sheer brass balls of this particular animal...normally a sudden movement would chase off most raccoons, no problem. Not this one...it actually growled at us when we opened the front door. When it was finished and walked off, I opened the door to get the bowl and figure out how to feed mary sans coon, when the damned thing actually climbed back down off the tree in front just to stand on the deck and grumble at me like a pit bull.
Rob was concerned it might have some sort of distemper, or rabies. Once I heard it was seen earlier in the company of two much smaller kin, I sussed it -- she's a mom.
When I left the house this evening to pick Roni up at the CalTrain station, I couldn't help but look up nervously. Raccoon claws are NASTY.