A Raccoon’s Big Wit

One afternoon, I ventured out of my cozy hollow in the oak tree to dig through trash cans. This was the day trashmakers took out the trash. I bounded into the territory of trashmakers. I beelined for the can a few yards away. I was a sienna raccoon with a black mask surrounding my eyes. I knocked down the tin can, and a lumpy, black bag tumbled out, and I ripped it open with my claws.

I didn’t notice when a trashmaker came to stroke my fur. I was paralyzed in fear, making no noise. The trashmaker grabbed at my tail with sticky little fingers, exclaiming, “It’s so cute!” I crouched helplessly, trying to dodge her hairless arms. The clumsy trashmaker finally managed to scoop up my hind legs and carry me upside down back to where she lived.

Inside, a big, ebony greyhound placed his front paws on the trashmaker’s body, and she yelped in surprise, dropping me onto the floor.

This is my chance to escape, I thought as I sprinted away, realizing that I couldn’t get out on my own. I have to make the trashmakers get me out. I know they don’t like raccoons digging up the trash, so I have to tip one over. Then I hurried to the can and tipped it over. Tangerine peels, moldy cheese, and other snacks came out. Next, I leaped onto a table ad gobbled up some pasta. Lastly, I screeched and stumbled like a rabid animal.

That caught the attention of three trashmakers, who came over to investigate. On the way they must’ve seen the messes I made, because they shouted in disgust. Soon a trashmaker, way bigger than the one that grabbed me, snatched me up by the scruff of my neck and threw me out the flap connecting outside.

Luckily I landed on my paws. I darted home, eager to escape the trashmakers. At my hollow, I settled contentedly on a layer of moss. What an ordeal a little raccoon overcame!