Day-Hay spotted him and his wife sauntering across our backyard in broad daylight. At first, she thought he was a cat as he carefully slid his body through the missing plank in the fence. But, no, he was too big for a cat and looked nothing like a cat. Besides, he wasn�t alone. Cats rarely travel in packs. Raccoon has returned.

Day-Hay watched Raccoon and his wife carefully. Luckily, they did not head for the house. Unluckily, they headed toward the shed. Day-Hay thinks that they might be reconnoitering. Man, my man, shudders at the thought. �No,� he said, grasping at straws. �Raccoon is just passing through.� But Man�s wife and his daughter are not so sure.

When you live across the street from a restaurant, have a wooden shed, and have no indoor place to store your own trash cans, you are particularly vulnerable to becoming a stop on the Raccoon Railroad. You can�t expect Raccoon to bypass such an inviting spot. Still, there�s a difference between being a transitory stop and hosting a Raccoon outpost. Man does not aspire to never seeing Raccoon again (although the thought is a delightful fantasy.) He just doesn�t want to have to battle Raccoon for garbage or turf.

But it never hurts to be prepared. Man has his ammonia ready, knows where his radio is, and remembers the exact location of his bright light. (Man should. He used that light to gerry-rig a light over my washer until the electrician came to fix the regular light today.) Man�s implements are prepared. What�s less clear is whether Man is psychologically prepared. After all, Man�s encounters with Raccoon are the closest we come to war here in the suburbs of Milwaukee.

So, let�s hope Raccoon is just passing through because if he�s not, Man�s going to need all the support he can get. If Raccoon decides to stay, it�s war.

LAST YEAR: Weather or Not

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Copyright 2006 by Ellen