Raccoon with a grudge. Entirely legitimate.

Yesterday, the afternoon was warm, and I had the back door open about 6 inches to let in a bit of air. I was sitting at my desk by the door, reading, when a young raccoon came to visit, standing by the open door about 3 feet from my chair, hesitating, as though wondering if he dared take the invitation. I cautiously collected the camera from its shelf and turned it on.

It makes the slightest possible "click" when the lever turns. Before the camera could focus, the raccoon had pulled back.

But I got a couple of shots through the glass door:

"Maybe not ..."

"I'm sorry; I was just leaving."

And he tiptoed away, as cautiously as I had moved with the camera.

But I followed him, in my sock feet, to the neighbour's.

"You can't see me here! ... I hope."

And beyond, where he stood on two feet behind some tall lilies:

"Are you still there?"

I took pity on him then; he looked so worried! I backed away, leaving the path to the cedars open, and he ran for cover behind them.

In revenge, or so it feels like, he came back in the night and dug up my begonias.

I guess I deserved that.