A Good Chuckle

A Good Chuckle

Friday, July 25, 2014

Bowser And The Raccoons

When my girlfriend and I had our first child, we bought a house near the state forest and game lands and moved in with our small family and two cats. We had been living in the mountains for a while already and so didn't think too much about leaving the cat food dishes on the back porch at the end of the day when we brought the cats inside for the night. Upon awakening in the morning, I discovered daily that there was no more cat food left. Not surprising considering where we are, but I never expected what I saw late one night.

About 10:30 pm, my girlfriend and I were hanging out in the living room watching some Netflix when I heard a ruckus on the deck. Something sounding like a slam and then a loud "MEOW!" of fury. I jolted up and ran to the sliding glass door that opens to my back porch to investigate. Bowser, one of my cats (and arguably one of the most bad ass cats to have ever lived), was face to face with a raccoon!

Bowser growled ferociously at the raccoon who hesitated his advance toward the cat food. Then, out of nowhere, another raccoon appeared on the deck from out of the shadows. Dastardly fucks! I unlocked the door and pulled it open quickly. Not entirely sure about what to do, I figured making a loud noise would be sufficient enough and so I let out a loud "Hyaaaaaa ya son of a bitch!" in a fashion very much similar to how my Grandpa used to holler at my dogs and cats growing up and I stomped my foot down really hard.

Not sure if the raccoons understood what I said or not, but they got the hell out of there lickity-split. Bowser looked up at me with this face like he was thinking, "You know you sound dumb as shit, right?" So I scooped Bowser up and brought him inside against his will. During the summertime Bowser would hang out on the back porch all night, enjoying the weather and probably whooping ass on mice and other trespassing critters.

A bit on Bowser. He was an older cat, about 16 when this happened. I adopted him from my grandparents who adopted him from my Aunt, who adopted him as a kitten way back in like 1993. Yeah, how old do you feel now? I said "way back in 1993." Anyway, my Aunt who adopted him originally had him de-clawed, so he didn't have any front claws. But that didn't stop him from being a cat boxing champion. I've seen Bowser slap the shit out of dogs who got too up in his business. So, now you know that.

Anyway, later that night, me and my girlfriend were still watching Netflix (oh the glamour of a life beyond bed time) when we heard Bowser growling by the sliding glass door, looking out onto the deck. I walked over to the door and moved the curtain aside to see a squad of up-to-no-good fucking raccoons on my back porch eating cat food out of Bowser's dish. And Bowser sees them too, he knew they were coming back. He was waiting for them.

"HYAAAH! HYAAAH! Ya slippery fucks, get off of my porch!" I yelled, and knocked on the door a few times good and loud.

And the raccoons didn't budge. Bowser looked up at me again judging me hard, shook his head, and sighed.

So I picked Bowser up and brought him over to my girlfriend, who held him on the couch. Then I went back to the door, pulled it open and yelled once more at those thieving shits. Two of the raccoons dove off of the porch and into the immediate shadows of the woods beyond, and yet one stayed behind glaring at me. I stomped on the porch a few times, picked my hands up and started waving them wildly around, yelling again "Get the hell outta here ass hole!"

This last raccoon still didn't leave. He stood there looking at me, and in reply to my wilder gestures, he straightened himself all the way up, to show me how tall he was I guess. In the animal kingdom he was saying "Come at me bro."

"Okay, it's like that then?"  At this point, I was pissed. I went back inside to find my air rifle. If this raccoon wanted to be a douche, I could be a bigger douche, guaranteed. As I opened the sliding glass door to retreat into the house and fetch my BB gun, Bowser escaped! He booked it across the deck and lunged at the remaining raccoon, who was still doing his best tough guy impression.

Bowser slap boxed the piss out of that raccoon. He hit him about six times in rapid succession. Right, left, left, right, left, hay maker. I'm standing there like a fucking idiot watching this and all I can think is "Down goes Frazier!" The raccoon could only take so much abuse before he dodged back into the darkness after his friends. Bowser stared after the raccoon for a few moments in the quiet night air on the back porch. Then he looked back at me with all the feline arrogance of a cat who just handled a human's problem for him. He walked over to his food, sniffed it, and laid down next to it purring.

Never saw a raccoon on my deck ever again. 

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