After the scene at my father’s, I went down to the creek to drown my sorrows. As I began slurping my way to oblivion, I struck up a conversation with the raccoon seated beside me. Roderick was his name, and what stories he could tell. He said he had stood in the path of a semi on Route 26 and not been squished through sheer willpower. He was a not-too-distant cousin, he also told me, of Rocky Raccoon of Beatle’s fame. He had spent many years working pyrotechnics for a rock band called The Gnarly Buttons. What a character!
I asked him if he was related, by any chance, to Ralph from back home, but he didn’t think so. Same surname though, so I have my suspicions.
It turned out that he knew my father by reputation because his sister-in-law Rita had done landscaping for him.
“She really made the place as welcoming as you could under the circumstances. I always thought the petunia planters on top of the gun turrets were a nice touch.”
He was surprised to learn Birch Bear was still among the living since he had not heard about him in a few years. As the conversation progressed, the Lutra canadensis tending bar – Oscar something-or-otter – chimed in about a home his mother was in called Hillside Manor. Then a duck seated across from us suggested Lawn Crest Retirement Village. And a beaver mentioned Shady Elm Assisted Living. And a sparrow offered Pinedale Convalescent Home. Soon, more animals came yammering out of the woodwork with ideas: Hillcrest, Lawn Side, Elm Dale and Shady Pine Senior Center, Rest Home, Geriatric Care Facility, and Skilled Nursing Unit, respectively. Having heard enough, I thanked them all, settled up my tab with Oswald or whatever and stumbled out.
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