The beast walked around the corner to the far side of the patio, at least 20 feet (6 meters) away, and began sniffing through the fence again. I barely had time to ask “What are you up to?” before he scaled the fence with ease and was on top of it prior to me intercepting him. He wasn’t showing as much fear of me as I’d hoped. Not only had he seen me feed them, but he also knew I had more food.
With the empty bowl I’d used to carry the pecans and almonds, I reached the end of the patio where he was already starting to climb down the inside of the fence. My approach stopped him and he returned to his place atop the barrier, but he didn’t go down the other side. Instead, he continued sniffing the air while watching me. I was closer than arm’s length when it occurred to me he was going to be a problem. I waved the empty bowl at him and sternly said things like “Get down” and “You’re not coming in here” and other senseless gibberish that really accomplished little in context. It was the noise and tone I hoped he would react to, not to mention the plastic bowl waving around in his face.
He reacted all right. He grabbed the bowl with one of his front paws. It so took me by surprise that I let go for a brief moment, and that presented me with the spectacle of this large raccoon sitting atop the fence holding a small, empty plastic bowl in one of his front paws. I laughed despite my own frustration. This truly was a demented joining of Animal Farm and Oliver Twist. It was a pitiful visual of this hungry monster presenting his food receptable and asking, “Please, sir, may I have some more?”
My split-second reverie aside, I reached for the bowl at the same moment he dropped it. “Son of a bitch!” It was nearly a yell as I caught it. He rushed down the outside of the fence. “Now stop it,” I said in a very harsh way, “This is not funny.” Although it was just that, but in a bizarre way.
Yet he didn’t stop. The little bastard walked back around to the other end of the patio as I followed him. As he had done before, he investigated the bottom of the fence a bit, reached in a few times, stuck his face through a few times, and then began to climb. Again, I waved the bowl at him while speaking sternly and trying to be as frightening as I could without waking the neighborhood. Again, he ignored me until he got to the top of the fence, by which time I’d actually tapped the fence with the bowl where he was climbing in the hopes of the close hit giving him pause. It did, but only momentarily.
He continued up and sat atop the fence. He sniffed the air intently before starting to climb down on the inside. I made plenty of noise and sudden movements to scare him. Again he went back down the outside and turned to look at me as though I was such an inconvenience.
The mother and babies lost interest after no additional food was offered. They probably also were quite disconcerted with all the noise and movement. Finally, they turned and left the way they came as I continued my insane romp around the patio shadowing their overzealous friend. One of the babies however, instead of following its mother, headed right toward Larenti.
Raccoons are extremely curious and I suspected the little one only wished to understand what that strange creature was, but I’d seen its mother fight off the other raccoon when it threatened them and worried the same could happen to the cat if it lashed out at the baby. Hissing is one thing; physical violence is something else entirely, and the mother wasn’t tolerating it.
It was then I realized this battle was getting out of hand. I couldn’t protect Vazra, myself, the other cat, and the bowl of food. There was simply too much ground to cover.