Happiness is a Fat-Assed Raccoon

Fat-Ass has won. He (she?)showed up again last night–Emily hasn’t for three days, I’m worried–and somehow managed to climb over piles of books and papers to reach the bag of cat food, toppling it and him onto the floor, after which he shrieked with rage and left, never to return. So far. It was the first time I’d laughed in weeks or at least it felt like it. And now I’m kind of hoping he comes back tonight. He went to all that trouble to spill a pound of cat food on my workroom floor, he should at least reap some kind of reward. Also, since Emily has evidently been adopted by someone else–I refuse to believe anything horrible–Fat-Ass may be my new pet. I have to admit an affection for his little bandit face as it peers up at the red lights of the camera, probably wondering “What is that thing?” and “Can I eat it?”

Happiness is screwball wildlife.

Note: He came back and brought a friend, so our relationship is over. If he’s going to see other people . . .

What made you happy this week?

ETA: And Emily came back. SO happy that she’s all right. Must trap her inside the house this week because it’s going to get cold here. Also because there are too damn many predators out there after a disabled stray cat.

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