A dissection

Under our window this evening, two youths skinned and dissected a raccoon.


Who were these youths? Were they the two young Mormon missionaries who live downstairs (Elders Henderson and Parker)? We couldn’t tell. We’d never seen the missionaries out of uniform.

We’d seen them meeting other Mormons in the parking lot to ride bicycles around the neighborhood. We’d seen them sitting for hours in a parked car, surfing the Internet with their phones. But, always, they’d been in uniform.

Whoever the raccoon skinners were, their activity unnerved me. Don’t raccoons often have rabies?

And how did the youths procure the raccoon? Did they kill it? Had it already died?

And then there’s the matter of Rascal, Sterling North’s book about a boy and his raccoon, which I’d bought just last week at Goodwill. Hadn’t these young ruffians read Rascal? (Well, I haven’t read it either, but now I’m going to.)

And isn’t it a bad sign when youths cut up animals for fun?

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Karin will take our kitties to the vet’s tomorrow. Jasper’s mouth sores have returned, and little Ziva has a bleeding paw.