Fri-D: There's a Raccoon on the Roof

It is 1:00 a.m. and there's a raccoon on the roof.

The dude who sits on my shoulder and generally tells me I'm wrong starts asking me questions. I usually call the dude Jiminy Cricket, for obvious reasons, but he takes on a variety of personas. Tonight he is a combination of Olaus Murie and John McPhee.

1. How do you know it's not the Jersey Devil? No hooves.

2. How do you know it's not one of Santa's reindeer? See question 1, plus out of season.

3. How do you know it's not Sasquatch? Too small, and walking on 4 feet.

4. Switching to Murie: how do you know it's not a bobcat? It's walking awkwardly, plantigrade style.

5. How do you know it's not an opossum? Too swift of foot and I don't hear the tail dragging behind.

6. Why don't you get your kiester out of bed, find a light, and see for yourself? Oh great, now he's Hemingway. I know what it is by knowing what it is not. There's one of your damn "true" sentences.

Yes, I am going crazy being self-quarantined. But I like raccoons.