I have concluded that coons have attitude problems. It doesn't matter where they are - west coast, east coast, no coast - they're just pesky.
Today's story involves a raccoon we came across on the Pacific Highway in California. We had just visited Hearst Castle and were making our way along the coast up to Montery Bay. It was getting dark and the fog was rolling in. If you've ever travelled on Highway One, you know that it winds along the edge of cliffs that drop off into the ocean. Not an easy drive even in good conditions.
Before long, the sun set, and we were left in total darkness. There we were, in the dark, in the fog, on an unlit road, winding along a cliff. Not good. Just when we thought things couldn't get any worse, what do you think happened? Yep. A coon decided to cross the road in front of us. My husband slammed on the brakes, barely missing him. And do you know what that stupid thing did? He stopped and gave us a look like, "What the heck are you doing here, you idiots?" Then he meandered slowly across the street. I nearly had a heart attack! Fortunately none of us went careening over the cliff.
Fast forward to last night. I looked out my front window. What do you think I saw on my porch? You guessed it. The pesky coon we saw on the fourth of July. I opened my door and said, "Hey, what do you think you're doing here?"
The stupid coon didn't budge. He just sat there looking at me.
I decided to call Schultz, our big old German Shepherd. I figured he'd like to have a piece of that coon. "Schultz!" The dog didn't move. "Schultz!" I called again. Again, the dog wouldn't budge. Apparently he was tired from his ten days in the pet hotel. (The workers told us that he had a lot of girlfriends, so I can just imagine what he was up to.)
I took matters into my own hands. I charged at the coon. That scared him off. At least he knew not to mess with an angry Mama!