Grandma and I get housesitting gigs which some may think is boring, but its not. She makes sure all the pets are fed and loved on. I am the entertainment committee and protector of whatever I claim as my domain. This is usually the universe.
Last week, as we took care of a pet bird, there was some excitement. Not in the house, but outside.
Grandma let me out in the minimum light of morning. What happened next- she was not sure. Once out the door, she said my feet looked like those of Fred Flintstone who would spin his feet to get his car rolling.
I was on the deck and COULD NOT get traction. In the flurry of yellow hair, barely visible in the darkness, she didn’t know what was going on.
In a discussion later that morning, I said, “Have I met Fred? I don’t remember him.”
“Past life, Petey. Past life.”
Something was scaling the tree heights at an octane speed. “A very hairy cat?”
By then I was at the base of the tree dancing about, trying to figure out how to climb it. It was too dark yet for Grandma to see the critter in the treetop. After about 15 minutes of skittering around the tree, my short-attention-span kicked in.
Grandma sat by the window and finally identified the culprit.
“Ol’ Ringtail!” she called to me. I heard her, but was more interested in napping.
“Petey! Come look!” She put me on the deck again, then held me in her arms trying to force my head to look up.
“Whaaaaa? Where’s my bed?” I yawned.
She was so excited. Grandma’s from Mississippi and enjoyed coon hunting when younger. “You treed your FIRST COON, Petey! I’m so proud of you!” She texted pictures to her sons with this great announcement and called other friends.
I would have none of it. The excitement was over, and it wasn’t 10 a.m. yet, my usual get-up-and-face-the-day-time. I returned to my kennel and snoozed again.
By daylight the wind picked up and the trees were doing some serious swaying. The coon fixed itself in a crook of branches and fell asleep.
A Stellar Jay came by and offered her opinion regarding the empty bird feeder.
Grandma was disappointed there was no action. She checked on the coon occasionally, a bit worried a strong gust would make it airborne. It was 40 feet to the ground.
After about three hours, the coon woke up and began his descent. Grandma took lots of photos and was laughing. I was in the front yard nosing around.
“Petey, you ought to come see this!”
A deer scent caught my nose and I ran off in the opposite direction. Grandma later told me that the coon had trouble coming down.
The evidence showed the coon had just finished cleaning out the second bird feeder and must have been relaxing, picking his teeth, when a yellow flash of lightning came out of nowhere and disturbed the pleasure of his full stomach bliss.
“It’s not likely he’ll come back, Petey. You inconvenienced him in a great way!” Grandma said.
“Satisfaction!” I barked.
Grandma says we make a great housesitting team. Let me know if you need help protecting your bird feeders and entertaining your pets. We’ll be on it!
Just for fun, here’s a link to a video on running coon dogs! (No shooting involved.)