Raccoons have invaded my house here in Livingston and a local pest control company has trapped and relocated three of them. My current tribulations with those critters made me think back to a time Roy and I shared our dock on the San Bernard River with a “community cat,” Callie, and a BIG racoon.
Time to dig out a funny memory and share the story with you all. Hope you like it. I originally wrote it as a submission to a Chicken Soup for the Soul cat book. They didn’t select it as one of the 101 stories out of thousands they got for the book, but I still think it’s a good story, and hope you do too.
“Necessity makes even the timid brave.” – Sallust
Callie, short for Calico, was her own cat. She belonged to no one – by her choice. But she had a personality which made the whole neighborhood claim her, and by default, she belonged to us all.
Callie’s life in the San Bernard River community began as many kittens’ lives do. Little David heard his wife, JoAnn, remark how beautiful calico cats were and if she were ever to have one, it would be a calico cat. So immediately he started looking and found one just in time for her birthday.
Joann, however, wasn’t ready for an indoor cat – she didn’t want the litter box smell in the house. So, when Callie was old enough, she was “fixed,” and a cat door was added to the entry door so Callie could go out to do her business and hunt to supplement her meals. It was a bit disconcerting to find “fresh food” (sometimes still wriggling) in JoAnn’s kitchen – especially at night – so the cat door was closed at night fall. Everything went along just fine until one day a raccoon found Callie’s door and food dish in the kitchen, came in, ate the cat food and was looking for more before he was banished outdoors. The cat door was permanently closed after that.
Now, Callie had to meow to get out and sometimes didn’t make it in time. She was also a bit put off by the closed cat door. She chose to show JoAnn her displeasure by using JoAnn’s new bedspread as a litter box. That was the last straw. Callie became an outdoor and neighborhood cat. There was always an extra bowl of kibble and water at the neighborhood houses she frequented, including ours. Some neighbors took her for shots and gave her worm medicine. We lived in a stilt house, and during the wintry weather Roy fixed a box lined with warm blankets inside our downstairs utility room and added an electric heater to allow her to get out of the cold and wet. In return, Callie would hunt down any errant threatening snake, gecko or varmint that came into the community. She was never a bother and people loved having her around on her terms. She never once overstayed her welcome.
Callie especially enjoyed the spring and summer months when we’d turn on our lights at night and fish. When Callie saw the lights come on, she found her way to the lighted dock and curled up under the fish cleaning table waiting for the fishing to begin. Roy was only one of the local gentry who cast for bait. When the cast net came back in, and the bait fish were released into the 5-gallon bucket, there would always be some fish falling on the dock. Those fish were Callie’s and that’s when she fished. She loved catching and eating live fish. Roy and our neighbors always made sure Callie had her fill of fresh fish when they were catching bait.
One night, Roy had cast for bait and started fishing before Callie found our dock. The fish were not biting yet, so he had gone into the utility room to work on tackle. Callie sauntered up inspecting the dock for Roy’s contribution to her fish dinner. Finding a wet dock and no Roy, Callie sat down and started to wash up for dinner. I stuck my head out of the patio door just about this time wanting to check if the fish were biting when I saw a boar raccoon twice the size of Callie stroll onto the dock. He was looking for fish dinner, too. Evidentially a few small, succulent shad were caught between the boards on the dock waiting to be plucked for an hors d’oeuvre right where Callie was sitting.
The racoon bullied his way toward Callie. She stopped licking her paws and looked up to meet his gaze. She didn’t budge. The racoon moved in closer – almost nose to nose. Callie stood her ground. The racoon sniffed the dock and moved forward again, but Callie was having none of this. THIS was HER dinner place. She sat up on her haunches and boxed the raccoon in the face with her paws. The raccoon shook off the blows and started forward again. Then Callie let out with a blood curdling hiss, stood up on her haunches and landed even stronger, quicker blows to the raccoon’s head and for a longer period of time. This time the interloper was stunned. He tried to shake off the blows and staggered off the dock, leaving it to Callie.
Roy never saw the exchange. But when he came out from under the house to fish, he saw his fishing buddy waiting there. He grabbed up the cast net and dumped the entire contents of the cast on the dock – just for her. Callie’s perseverance was rewarded. Oh, and we never saw that racoon again.
