By Todd J. Irwin
Our middle class neighborhood bordering the green belt around White Rock Lake. The houses, mostly built of brick with wood shake roofs, surrounded by trees of all kinds - pecan, oak, maple - and regularly attracts residents of the forest for gardens, backyards and alleys. Armadillos, rabbits, possums and raccoons are frequent visitors, now and then we will see a coyote or two patrolling their territory, hoping to catch a stray cat or small dog for a meal.
For most living humans and animals, harmonious, probably because the latter can be found under the notice of the past. Aside from the occasional encounter with a car, resulting in a mutilated body in the middle of a street, hide the animals in the daytime, limiting their trips to the shady hours of dusk and dawn and night.
For reasons known only to himself, decided a cheeky critter, a large gray so that my neighbor's ceiling would be a perfect place to raise a family and began a systematic attack on the wooden roof. My neighbor, Bob, a petroleum engineer by trade and an egotistical bully by temperament, was determined that his castle would be impregnable, and so began an epic battle of wills.
The small human-like hands raccoons are perfectly designed to spread the shake of a wooden roof, and thus gain access. Each weekend, Bob would climb onto the roof, move or replace the loose shake and try a new way to reject intruder. He tried live traps, lethal traps, traps that clamped down on the raccoon bone, and married, although intoxication is illegal in most states. Nothing worked. Despite his best efforts, it seemed clear that the raccoon was destined to win and Bob's ceiling would be the new nursery.
For most living humans and animals, harmonious, probably because the latter can be found under the notice of the past. Aside from the occasional encounter with a car, resulting in a mutilated body in the middle of a street, hide the animals in the daytime, limiting their trips to the shady hours of dusk and dawn and night.
For reasons known only to himself, decided a cheeky critter, a large gray so that my neighbor's ceiling would be a perfect place to raise a family and began a systematic attack on the wooden roof. My neighbor, Bob, a petroleum engineer by trade and an egotistical bully by temperament, was determined that his castle would be impregnable, and so began an epic battle of wills.
The small human-like hands raccoons are perfectly designed to spread the shake of a wooden roof, and thus gain access. Each weekend, Bob would climb onto the roof, move or replace the loose shake and try a new way to reject intruder. He tried live traps, lethal traps, traps that clamped down on the raccoon bone, and married, although intoxication is illegal in most states. Nothing worked. Despite his best efforts, it seemed clear that the raccoon was destined to win and Bob's ceiling would be the new nursery.
Early one morning, when Bob was shaving in preparation for work, he heard the familiar sound of scrambling feet and torn shingles from the roof. "Finally," he thought, "an opportunity to see the SOB face to face." Realizing that he would have the advantage of a lower position, even when standing on a ladder, Bob decided that he would end the confrontation, once and for all. Gripping his.38 pistol from the nightstand, he slowly crept through the house, out of the sliding back door in the backyard and up the ladder. When he looked over eave, he spied the raccoon near the center ridge.
It was a perfect angle. The ball, if he missed, they would fly high into the sky, and would not endanger anyone, or so he thought. Leaning on the ladder, he recommended two-hand grip on the gun and began to raise his hands to aim. The raccoon, suddenly aware of his presence, he jumped and started running over the top of the roof to the other side. Bob in his urgency to take the picture, rolled, fell from the ladder, and shot himself in the side.
It was an exciting morning for the neighborhood and, of course, all turned out to see police cars and ambulances with their sirens and red lights. What had happened? Bob's wife had grown tired of his bullying and taken matters into their own hands? Was his injury the result of a home invasion? As the facts became known, people drew a sign of relief that there was a criminal on the block and felt no little satisfaction that Bob had finally gotten used repaid for his over-bearing manner. Raccoons vanished.
Two weeks later, Bob was home from the hospital, convalescing in his armchair watching television in the cave. Fortunately, he had missed his vital organs suffer only painful entry and exit wounds and a chipped rib. His wife and daughter need some relief from his constant complaints, took the opportunity to leave the house for an evening of shopping. Bob was alone, taking pain pills and feeling sorry for himself. He sensed or so moving out of the corner of your eye and turned to look out the glass door.
The raccoon had returned! Squatting on the top step on the terrace, staring straight into Bob's eyes, raccoon thin black lips slowly pulled into a toothy grin. It was too much for Bob. All the pain and humiliation he had suffered in the past two weeks, the frustration of being unable to best the simple animals, flooded his mind. "The raccoon would have to pay whatever the cost."
Bob limped into the bedroom and got 0.38, and returned to the cave, just in time to see the raccoon go through a hole in the fence to the alley. Night was falling, and the neighborhood was quiet. Bob, determined to kill raccoon and get some revenge for the illnesses he had suffered, followed it into the alley, still dressed in underwear, he had dressed himself that morning. As the door closed behind him, he stood there, naked except for her white panties and a bandage, which covered an entire side of his body, keeps the gun in the reliable two-handle, looked into the dusk, looking for some movement of the animal .
Suddenly, the sky lit up by the headlights of a car turning into the alley. Bob was blind and lifted one hand to cover his eyes when a voice blared from the speaker of the police car, "Stop! Drop the gun! Raise your hands!"
Of course Bob was arrested, gets caught in the alley in his unde
It was a perfect angle. The ball, if he missed, they would fly high into the sky, and would not endanger anyone, or so he thought. Leaning on the ladder, he recommended two-hand grip on the gun and began to raise his hands to aim. The raccoon, suddenly aware of his presence, he jumped and started running over the top of the roof to the other side. Bob in his urgency to take the picture, rolled, fell from the ladder, and shot himself in the side.
It was an exciting morning for the neighborhood and, of course, all turned out to see police cars and ambulances with their sirens and red lights. What had happened? Bob's wife had grown tired of his bullying and taken matters into their own hands? Was his injury the result of a home invasion? As the facts became known, people drew a sign of relief that there was a criminal on the block and felt no little satisfaction that Bob had finally gotten used repaid for his over-bearing manner. Raccoons vanished.
Two weeks later, Bob was home from the hospital, convalescing in his armchair watching television in the cave. Fortunately, he had missed his vital organs suffer only painful entry and exit wounds and a chipped rib. His wife and daughter need some relief from his constant complaints, took the opportunity to leave the house for an evening of shopping. Bob was alone, taking pain pills and feeling sorry for himself. He sensed or so moving out of the corner of your eye and turned to look out the glass door.
The raccoon had returned! Squatting on the top step on the terrace, staring straight into Bob's eyes, raccoon thin black lips slowly pulled into a toothy grin. It was too much for Bob. All the pain and humiliation he had suffered in the past two weeks, the frustration of being unable to best the simple animals, flooded his mind. "The raccoon would have to pay whatever the cost."
Bob limped into the bedroom and got 0.38, and returned to the cave, just in time to see the raccoon go through a hole in the fence to the alley. Night was falling, and the neighborhood was quiet. Bob, determined to kill raccoon and get some revenge for the illnesses he had suffered, followed it into the alley, still dressed in underwear, he had dressed himself that morning. As the door closed behind him, he stood there, naked except for her white panties and a bandage, which covered an entire side of his body, keeps the gun in the reliable two-handle, looked into the dusk, looking for some movement of the animal .
Suddenly, the sky lit up by the headlights of a car turning into the alley. Bob was blind and lifted one hand to cover his eyes when a voice blared from the speaker of the police car, "Stop! Drop the gun! Raise your hands!"
Of course Bob was arrested, gets caught in the alley in his unde
Two weeks later, Bob was home from the hospital, convalescing in his armchair watching television in the cave. Fortunately, he had missed his vital organs suffer only painful entry and exit wounds and a chipped rib. His wife and daughter need some relief from his constant complaints, took the opportunity to leave the house for an evening of shopping. Bob was alone, taking pain pills and feeling sorry for himself. He sensed or so moving out of the corner of your eye and turned to look out the glass door.
The raccoon had returned! Squatting on the top step on the terrace, staring straight into Bob's eyes, raccoon thin black lips slowly pulled into a toothy grin. It was too much for Bob. All the pain and humiliation he had suffered in the past two weeks, the frustration of being unable to best the simple animals, flooded his mind. "The raccoon would have to pay whatever the cost."
Bob limped into the bedroom and got 0.38, and returned to the cave, just in time to see the raccoon go through a hole in the fence to the alley. Night was falling, and the neighborhood was quiet. Bob, determined to kill raccoon and get some revenge for the illnesses he had suffered, followed it into the alley, still dressed in underwear, he had dressed himself that morning. As the door closed behind him, he stood there, naked except for her white panties and a bandage, which covered an entire side of his body, keeps the gun in the reliable two-handle, looked into the dusk, looking for some movement of the animal .
Suddenly, the sky lit up by the headlights of a car turning into the alley. Bob was blind and lifted one hand to cover his eyes when a voice blared from the speaker of the police car, "Stop! Drop the gun! Raise your hands!"
Of course Bob was arrested, gets caught in the alley in his underwear with a gun without identification. Nobody was in his house to verify his identity so he was taken to the local police substation to await transfer to the downtown jail. When he came home the next morning, he was a changed man.
Whether the raccoon back to Bob's house unknown. Neither Bob nor his family ever talk about the incident, but they added a big, black dog to the family. As time passes, the Bob fight with raccoon becomes a neighborhood legend, or perhaps a myth and is retold when a raccoon looking to stay in another house.
Michael Lewis is a retired executive who lives in Dallas, Texas. Growing up in a West Texas town in the late '40s and '50s, Lewis was a product of Texas myths - the stoic cowboy who fought for justice, respected women, and was loyal to his friends. His stories recall a past that is slowly fading away as people have become more diversified and urbanized.
The raccoon had returned! Squatting on the top step on the terrace, staring straight into Bob's eyes, raccoon thin black lips slowly pulled into a toothy grin. It was too much for Bob. All the pain and humiliation he had suffered in the past two weeks, the frustration of being unable to best the simple animals, flooded his mind. "The raccoon would have to pay whatever the cost."
Bob limped into the bedroom and got 0.38, and returned to the cave, just in time to see the raccoon go through a hole in the fence to the alley. Night was falling, and the neighborhood was quiet. Bob, determined to kill raccoon and get some revenge for the illnesses he had suffered, followed it into the alley, still dressed in underwear, he had dressed himself that morning. As the door closed behind him, he stood there, naked except for her white panties and a bandage, which covered an entire side of his body, keeps the gun in the reliable two-handle, looked into the dusk, looking for some movement of the animal .
Suddenly, the sky lit up by the headlights of a car turning into the alley. Bob was blind and lifted one hand to cover his eyes when a voice blared from the speaker of the police car, "Stop! Drop the gun! Raise your hands!"
Of course Bob was arrested, gets caught in the alley in his underwear with a gun without identification. Nobody was in his house to verify his identity so he was taken to the local police substation to await transfer to the downtown jail. When he came home the next morning, he was a changed man.
Whether the raccoon back to Bob's house unknown. Neither Bob nor his family ever talk about the incident, but they added a big, black dog to the family. As time passes, the Bob fight with raccoon becomes a neighborhood legend, or perhaps a myth and is retold when a raccoon looking to stay in another house.
Michael Lewis is a retired executive who lives in Dallas, Texas. Growing up in a West Texas town in the late '40s and '50s, Lewis was a product of Texas myths - the stoic cowboy who fought for justice, respected women, and was loyal to his friends. His stories recall a past that is slowly fading away as people have become more diversified and urbanized.