It seems all my readers have been sitting on the edges of their seats. Every time I meet one, they demand to know what’s going on with the family of raccoons. Well, I’ve poked a flashlight under my front step a couple of times recently, and it seems they’ve left the building for good. The emergency backup nest has served its purpose, and now they’re movin’ on up.

Movin’ on up, but not far.

On the night of my recent birthday celebrations, I was seeing the last of my guests out. There were a few on foot, and a few others leaving by car. No sooner had the car engine started up than a raccoon — Mama by the looks of her — came out of one of our neighbour’s front yards (Cindy Sherwin, Pulse News in fact) and trotted casually across the street, right in front of everybody.

Marr, who was in the car, rolled down the window and shouted to me, knowingly, “Fucking raccoon!”

“Fucking raccoon,” I concurred. I’ll miss them all.