Today a thing occurred, the silliest thing I've heard in at least twenty-four hours...Gabriel and I were walking, conversing about vegan entrées we want to explore for Path, and as we were leaving (out the man-sized hole in the fence) we stumbled and were stumbled upon by a raccoon kit.
|| Almost 2/3 of the cerebral cortex area that is reserved for sensation is reserved for tactile sensation -- touch. That's cool ||
The baby raccoon's eagerness to be our friend was alarming. Not because we feared the tiny creature but because we didn't see his/her parents around and that meant that they could be hunkered down under some bush ready to torpedo our necks -- á la Monty Python and the Holy Grail rabbit.
Let's call the raccoon Sneaky-Pants.
Sneaky-Pants seemed only to want our attention and affection but I'll be honest, a small creature (rabies?) who clings incessantly to strange humanoids (starving? [and rabies]) and then follows them out of the woods into the streets then back to the woods then into a big field and then makes a heart-breaking caaaaaawwwww bark, makes me feel two things: Guilt from running away from it and. . . no, just guilt.
Sneaky-Pants was so cute. "But he might have rabies!?"Gabriel and I reassure ourselves as we run circles to lose the furry, evolutionarily advantaged mammal.
We re-entered the bird sanctuary and saw Sneaky-Pants' two siblings watch prudishly from their perch in a bendy tree. Careful-Pants and Gonna-Tell-Mom-Pants eventually descended and in a few minutes Gabriel and I, and the guy we met in the field who was throwing frisbees to nobody, sprinted through the bird sanctuary with a trio of galloping raccoons in hot, whiny pursuit.
We lost them in the small but tall patch of mint and milkweed. And then Gabriel and I ran away, laughing and sweating and feeling guilty about the whole thing...
|| Almost 2/3 of the cerebral cortex area that is reserved for sensation is reserved for tactile sensation -- touch. That's cool ||
The baby raccoon's eagerness to be our friend was alarming. Not because we feared the tiny creature but because we didn't see his/her parents around and that meant that they could be hunkered down under some bush ready to torpedo our necks -- á la Monty Python and the Holy Grail rabbit.
Let's call the raccoon Sneaky-Pants.
Sneaky-Pants seemed only to want our attention and affection but I'll be honest, a small creature (rabies?) who clings incessantly to strange humanoids (starving? [and rabies]) and then follows them out of the woods into the streets then back to the woods then into a big field and then makes a heart-breaking caaaaaawwwww bark, makes me feel two things: Guilt from running away from it and. . . no, just guilt.
Sneaky-Pants was so cute. "But he might have rabies!?"Gabriel and I reassure ourselves as we run circles to lose the furry, evolutionarily advantaged mammal.
We re-entered the bird sanctuary and saw Sneaky-Pants' two siblings watch prudishly from their perch in a bendy tree. Careful-Pants and Gonna-Tell-Mom-Pants eventually descended and in a few minutes Gabriel and I, and the guy we met in the field who was throwing frisbees to nobody, sprinted through the bird sanctuary with a trio of galloping raccoons in hot, whiny pursuit.
We lost them in the small but tall patch of mint and milkweed. And then Gabriel and I ran away, laughing and sweating and feeling guilty about the whole thing...
1 comment:
That is awesome, every (rabies?) word.
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