rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

And Then

So the limping raccoon came back last night, ate the cat food, then went to sleep on the doormat. Later it climbed into the chair with the pillow in it and slept there a long time. I kept checking out the window, thinking a cat would come and discover the raccoon asleep and there would be conflict, but this never happened. Lots of things never happen, or at least never happen here.

A long time after that I looked out and didn't see the raccoon, so I went out to refill the food and water bowls. But the raccoon had merely moved to a spot on the lawn where the porch light didn't reach. My coming out disturbed it, and it lumbered off, still limping, and left the yard through the opening in the back fence. Now I'm undecided about leaving more food out. The raccoon clearly needs a place to recuperate (or perhaps to die quietly) but I'd rather not have it spending half the night in my yard when there are kittens about. On the other hand, if there's no cat food out, the raccoon might decide to try to eat kitten instead. I don't know that it's strong enough to catch one, but I'd rather not take the chance.

Decisions, decisions.

But the kittens have just had a snack and finished their evening frolic on the lawn and have gone back to the shed. The raccoon usually doesn't turn up until dusk. I have a couple of hours in which to enjoy the yard myself, though the black and white cat might join me. She's gotten bold today and gone out there a few times, and has managed to miss seeing the striped cat so far. I hope for continued absence of confrontation.

The weather forecast shows steadily rising temperatures, breaking 90 degrees by Thursday. I'm glad full summer heat has been put off so far, but wish it could be further delayed. Heat is no friend to this badly insulated house.

Still it's a pleasant evening now, with cirrus clouds and chirping birds and the first crickets will soon begin to chirp. Out to enjoy it while it lasts.

Sunday Verse

To Dreams

by Charles Simic

I'm still living at all the old addresses,
Wearing dark glasses even indoors,
On the hush-hush sharing my bed
With phantoms, visiting in the kitchen

After midnight to check the faucet.
I'm late for school, and when I get there
No one seems to recognize me.
I sit disowned, sequestered and withdrawn.

These small shops open only at night
Where I make my unobtrusive purchases,
These back-door movie houses in seedy neighborhoods
Still showing grainy films of my life,

The hero always full of extravagant hope
Losing it all in the end?–whatever it was–
Then walking out into the cold, disbelieving light
Waiting close-lipped at the exit.

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