More on Buster's "ild childs".

Last night, we were sitting in the living room, watching television,
and enjoying the light dusting of pre-snow freezing drizzle as it
drifted down.

Little Feet was napping in the chair near the window. Buster was
napping on the air-blocking blanket at the base of the door.

Suddenly, there is a "sproing! sproing!" noise at the window. Thinking
some local kid has found a small deposit of snow, I look up.

Buster's raccoon is at the window, and is slapping the screen.

Little Feet sits up suddenly, and runs up onto the window sill. The
raccoon backs up just a hair, the slaps the screen again.

Buster has, by now, streeeetched, yawned, and taken a peek at the
window. Now he sits, facing the door, and is insistently meowing at
the door, to be let out.

Knowing this is the least of it, I fill a bowl of cat food, take it to
the door, and let Buster out.

The raccoon watches me closely, ready to run at the slightest hint
that I might get too close. I put the food bowl down in the raccoon's
general direction, tell him what a pretty raccoon he is, then leave
him and Buster, and go back inside.

Buster sniffs at the bowl, pushes it gently with a paw, in the
raccoon's direction, Then lays down under the neighbor's window while
the raccoon eats.

I only hope there are no wild velociraptors in our neighborhood for
Buster to adopt...

Hugs and Purrs,
Mark