As I was sitting in my room doing homework still clad in the Sunday best, a sound erupted from down the street. I poked my head out of my bedroom window and listened again. A cry for help split the quiet street of Robmont . As I looked for the commotion I heard, "McClain get your gun"!
Not knowing what to do, I sprinted to the attic, grabbed my old Winchester .12 gauge , and sprinted for the door. As I ran across the street in true gentlemen farmer fashion,a whole host of house buyers stared in shock as a teenage boy ran carrying a hunting shotgun.Upon arriving at the neighbor in distress's house, I witnessed a pitched battle between man and beast. My father wielding a shovel was swinging like a heavy hitter at a psychotic raccoon whilst it was being sprayed with water,and fought by the dog. It was as if an exhibit at Petting zoo or Sea world had gone terribly wrong, what with the flying water coming out of the garden hose or the wild animal sprinting around the backyard.The whole thing was an extreme spectacle and had gathered a small gallery of concerned,and most likely bored neighbors. I ran up and tried to pin it down with a flat head shovel as my dad called animal control. With my neighbor in the house and the dog barking from across the yard, the whole thing was starting to calm down. After the dispatch of Animal control took his sweet time to get there, we all went our separate ways.
I had thought I had the raccoon beat while recounting the story to some friends. But then, oh then I got that call that you never want after that event. "Um McClain, ya your gonna probably have to get rabies shots,or...you...could probably go insane or die"...great. So I took the shots, and have finished the cycle. I thought old Rocky Raccoon had lost the fight, but it turns out he was just a bit under the weather ,and have a most likely terrible day.
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