I realize that it's dark and Miss Thai is not sitting on my keyboard. So I go down to the back door and call through the screen, singing the Thai song (which is the chorus of "The Boxer" with a string of "Thais" instead of "La la li") to summon her. It's dark. Something white, but not white enough, approaches with cat-like approaching sounds. I turn on the outside light to be sure.
"You called?" The raccoon on the steps sits up and twitches her whiskers at me.
"You are not my cat," I say.
"But I live here," says the raccoon. "You might as well let me in."
"Sorry," I say, and go call out the front door, where Thai appears. "Where have you been?" She demands. "Get up there on the computer so I can snub you!"
I know it ought to bother me that raccoons live in our attic, but they keep the rats out and in any case none of the people who were supposed to bid on projects to exclude them from the attic has ever gotten back to us. I believe the height of our roof terrifies them. The coons don't get into the trash because there's nothing worth their while in the trash. It all goes on the compost heap. I don't really garden enough to keep a compost heap, but it's well worth it for keeping the wildlife and the sour smells outside rather than in.
And Thai typically snubs me elaborately for five minutes or so. If she really wants to punish me she stays outside out of my line of sight as I call and call and imagine horrible deaths she might have suffered, then appears magically as soon as my husband comes out to look for her.
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