It was a quiet day on our patio. Until the dogs next door started barking. We heard their owner shouting, "No! Stop! Get away! No!" and we knew they had gotten an animal. We assumed a possum, but we knew better when a small creature crawled through the gap in our fence. It had a strangely thin coat, and no ringed tail, but we knew that it was a raccoon, nonetheless. It stared up at us, with its helpless eyes. It looked as if it were about to cry. Then we noticed its back leg. The raccoon was holding up the back leg and not using it while it crawled. We knew it was broken. It looked away from us and crawled into our bush. All we could see of him was a dark mass that was trying and failing to climb up the trunk of the bush. We named him Sam. We watched him for an hour. Then we went inside to sleep. He was gone the next day. We haven't seen him since, but this is the story of the Sam that is still with me. This is the story of the little adventurous raccoon that lives inside us all.
This is the story of Sam.
