Raccoon Heart
I live in America now. I write about the blue herons, the coyotes, and the foxes. I run on trails past the Colorado ponds and creeks. There is a red fox who sometimes naps in the field behind my house.
One morning before dawn, I opened the patio door to let my dog out to the back yard. I was heading back to put the kettle on when he barked. He almost never barks. So, I went out to look. I saw a shadow on top of the fence. "Cool," I thought, "an owl." Cody barked again. I looked again. In the darkness, I saw a young raccoon sitting on my fence. He was small and round-eared. His eyes glowed. It was 6:30 AM. I was about to drive 50 miles to work the last day of my contract with a famous consulting company. I went back into the kitchen. I broke my toasted peanut butter sandwich in half. I took one half outside. I threw it over the fence -- wide of the visitor so as not to scare him. I called out,"Good Morning, Raccoon!" I went back inside and carried on with my day. When I drove down Colorado 93, I had a raccoon in my heart.
One morning before dawn, I opened the patio door to let my dog out to the back yard. I was heading back to put the kettle on when he barked. He almost never barks. So, I went out to look. I saw a shadow on top of the fence. "Cool," I thought, "an owl." Cody barked again. I looked again. In the darkness, I saw a young raccoon sitting on my fence. He was small and round-eared. His eyes glowed. It was 6:30 AM. I was about to drive 50 miles to work the last day of my contract with a famous consulting company. I went back into the kitchen. I broke my toasted peanut butter sandwich in half. I took one half outside. I threw it over the fence -- wide of the visitor so as not to scare him. I called out,"Good Morning, Raccoon!" I went back inside and carried on with my day. When I drove down Colorado 93, I had a raccoon in my heart.
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