You’ve just GOT to be kidding me!

There I was at 4:30 this morning — tippy tapping away at the computer, laboring over a few layout/design projects for work (yes. I’m a morning person. shut up), when The Amazing Bob comes into view, signing sorta, kinda frantically.

Wut up? What is my Honey Pie trying to convey so early in the AM?

There was a family of FOUR raccoons on our porch, snarfing up our poor Rocco’s brekkie. Where’s Rocco? Smart boy that he is, he’d decamped — beat feet to less crazily populated environs.

When our skunk visitor comes by, Rocco stays put. He and Flower get along fine — she doesn’t spray and he shares his food.

The raccoons are a whole ‘notha beastie though. They’re like the drunk footballers of our porch animal kingdom. One is manageable and cute even as long as he’s not being overly bold — pulling the old B&E. Two can be a bit worrisome since they don’t necessarily play well with each other let alone any of my other porch customers.

Four?! We’ve never had an entire marauding gang of raccoons before. Word must have gotten out on the Fury Bandit Telegraph. “The broad down on Wall Street? You know, that little cottage? Yeah, she’s a REAL soft touch. Let’s rumble!”

Two at the door waiting...waiting

The boys polished off Rocco’s leftovers and then, THEN, they came and stood at the door — the lot of them — asking for more. They waited. Brazen motherfuckers, they are.

TAB told me to STAY INSIDE. Yes, I had thoughts of bringing them out more kibble and Friskies Mixed Grill. Rocco hadn’t left THAT much on his plate and there were four of these fat beggers at my door.

Ah...no. TAB put his foot down.

Eventually the band of masked brothers moved on and Rocco returned. Naturally, I had to give him another dish 'o' eats and a ton of pats and skritches. Poor thing had to have been traumatized or annoyed or something.

Where was our little princess Coco though all this? Excitedly watching all the action from her window perch. Oh look — bedlam, uproar, mayhem, adventure! Later, after the sun rose and everyone’d moved on, she managed to break through the screen at her front window station. Oni, who’d been having his morning cuppa on the veranda, dashed in:

“where’s your cat?”  (she and Rocco look a lot alike — easy to mistake one for the other)

“Dunno, maybe upstairs?”

We opened the front door and in she strolled, easy as you please — as though she makes Breaking and Exiting moves every day.

Sigh — I can’t take all this excitement. Need more coffee. Now please!