Back when we first moved here from cold Northern Idaho, I contracted Pneumonia. While I was incubating it, and running a fever, I read a story in the paper and later saw it on TV. I thought it was a manifestation of my fever, had inadvertently kept the article and had proof.

Some people were canoeing on a lake north of here when they were attacked by a rabid beaver, who swam out into the lake, bit into the canoe, and chased the people across the lake. The people had to paddle for their lives as the beaver was SERIOUS. They finally made it to shore then had to outrun the beaver to their car and drive off to get help. It took a small army, but the beaver was finally killed and his rabies confirmed. For some reason this struck me as hilariously funny, sorta like JEM's multi-colored elephants.

I was running a fever, so have some excuse for what happened after that. I went to sleep. It was hot out and the air-conditioning felt really good, though it wasn't very effective. And it was hotter when the raccoon started running his paws up my bare leg. I was sleeping in as few clothes as I could, and the raccoon seemed to be quite aware of this. He ran his paws up my other leg. One hand slid under the elastic of my panties.

Knowing that raccoons are not attracted to human females in the usual way, I came to the only obvious conclusion. The raccoon was rabid. I kicked at him (I assumed it wasn't a female, or there would have been even more problems) and rolled across the bed. The raccoon asked me if I was all right and shifted onto the bed. I screamed and struck out at the rabid raccoon. At least one fist struck bare skin. Wait a minute... bare skin?

Rob was forgiving of being mistaken for a rabid raccoon, but a little tight lipped about me punching him in the shoulder. A couple of days later, I was in the hospital recovering from pneumonia.

I haven't dreamed about any other rabid raccoons, but I figure that it is only a matter of time before another one tries to attack me in my bed. D*mned rapist raccoons anyway.

Copyright © Pam Shirk
April 30, 2002