A face in the night window

I've always made a big deal about being scared of sneaky night creatures, like opossums, mostly, but also raccoons--the animals Sebastien and Makkin think are the cutest creatures in the world. Anything that looks remotely ratlike or mouselike can send me running for a powder, as the Southern women of old times used to say.  (What's a powder anyway? Smelling salts to prevent fainting?)

Mike told me yesterday that he found a field mouse in his silverware drawer, cute little thing, he said, all furry, and I got an unpleasant shiver at the vicarious sight of said mouse.  I remembered how back when we lived on Huisache, 1968, I went downstairs for a drink of tea in the middle of the night and saw a couple of mice scampering across the floor.  I was so freaked out I  never went to the kitchen at night again in that house.

Except in the case of actual rodents and opossums, a fear I will hold to for eternity because perhaps of some barely-remembered childhood traumatic experience, I am starting to reconsider releasing my fear of raccoons.

Just now I got up to have some French lemonade--a yummy drink I bought at World Market because it has exactly the right bottles for kombucha-making--I turned on the light to see a curious little fellow looking inside.  His paws were on my windowsill and we held eye contact for a few minutes.  I kept looking and he kept looking, taking advantage of the glass between us for safety, scrutinizing each other.  (So he's the guy I hear scratching about on the Happy Deck every night!)

He was--I have to admit--pretty cute.  With his black-rimmed and innocent-looking eyes, he reminded me more of a baby panda than a rat. His fur was fluffy, and he meant me no harm.  I'm not quite ready to pet one or invite one inside, but I found this particular raccoon, in spite of myself,  a little bit adorable.