The Other Raccoon

Not too long after the first bad raccoon experience, another raccoon wandered in the yard, this time, right up to my leashed dog. I knew right away something was wrong with it because they just don't do a stupid thing like walk up to a mortal enemy without fear. Before I could run out and pull the dog in, the raccoon bit my dog. I didn't know if it was rabid or what, but was determined to not let it go.

Once again, I got my trusty old one shooter shotgun out and put a shell in. And remembering the last time I had to use it, put 3 more shells in my pocket "just in case." By this time, my brother had noticed me with the gun, and stood by me to assist. Note: Stood by...not offering to do the manly thing and do it for me.

The coon had climbed the tree right outside the house, and I thought I could shoot it down. I wasn't crying this time, because the thing bit my dog and I was MAD. So I walked a distance from the tree...pointed the gun up there, shot and...What do you know the thing came down, writhed for a few seconds and died. I was so proud of my shooting. My brother was impressed, as well.

I called the health department to have them pick up the raccoon and have it tested for rabies. Not too long after they had picked it up, they called me, wanting to know if I had shot it in the head, as if I did, it couldn't be tested. They thought they saw some blood in it's ear. When I said no, they said they couldn't find a shot anywhere on it at all.

My "I am a perfect shot" balloon was popped. Here, I had shot up there, and must have scared it to where it let go of the tree, fell on it's head and broke it's neck. I hadn't shot it AT ALL.

I never did tell my brother that I missed that racoon. I still let him think I am a good shot.