100% True Stories

I was brought up on a 200-acre horse and cow farm in southwestern Michigan in the 60s and early-70s. I pretty much lived a young boy's dream. I was a cowboy. It was my job to feed and water all the animals before I could eat and catch the bus to school. In the evening, I'd jump on my horse and herd the cattle back into the barn. I was even breaking horses (ok, ponies) by the time I was eight years old.

We lived in the upstairs of the old-time family farmhouse. The farm was owned by my great-aunt and great-uncle who had helped raise my Dad. Dad called them Ma and Pa and they called him Sonny. My sister and I called them Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa had gone blind back in the 1920s but, having been born in 1890, had some great stories about the oil rushes in Oklahoma and Texas, which is where my Dad's family called home.

Being on such a farm, any boy will find all manner of wild critters to drag into the house and beg to keep as a pet. However, this tale regales a time when my Dad brought home the most interesting pet of my life.

A baby raccoon.

Dad had found it on the side of the road on his way home from work at about 1:00 in the morning. The coon, naturally named Rascal, stayed with us for the better part of three years and pretty much had the run of the farm.

It was a great learning experience for a kid. I got to watch first-hand how raccoons clean their food. I was amazed at the dexterity with which they used their little hands and thumbs. I also noticed that if there was ever a time that I couldn't find Rascal, all I had to do was check for standing water and there he'd be.

One afternoon, my family was downstairs visiting Grandma and Grandpa. In the course of the visit, Grandpa excused himself to use the bathroom and made his way easily. Him being blind, the furniture had been in the same place for some 40 years, so he knew exactly how many steps it took him to get wherever he had to go.

We were continuing our visit with Grandma when we heard a terrified yell come from the bathroom.

"SONNY!!" yelled Grandpa. "It's a rat! It's a rat! There's a sewer rat in the toilet!"

Dad hurried into the bathroom to kill the vicious critter and keep Grandpa from being bitten. After just one look at the rat, he was able to deduce the order of events that had taken place.

Grandpa, being blind, had to sit down to do any business in the bathroom. I suppose he could have stood up for one job, tapping his cane to find the opening, but there would always be the chance of finding the wrong opening and making an embarrassing mistake. So he just sat down for everything.

On this memorable occasion, he sat on the toilet and tucked himself neatly inside. Unbeknownst to him, Rascal (the 'rat') was in the toilet playing in the water, and when Grandpa sat down, all Rascal could see was another toy for him to play with.

Rascal reached up with those dexterous hands of his and took a handful of what Grandpa cherished most. Needless to say, he also had Grandpa's full attention. The 70-plus year-old blind man moved faster than he had in years, charging out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles. His cherished boys, which Rascal had found so alluring only seconds earlier, were also quite evident to our endless chagrin.

Dad came back into the living room roaring with laughter, with tears in his eyes and having to lean on the wall to keep his balance.

Rascal stayed with us another year or two after that but eventually came around less and less until he left and never returned. But that little raccoon gave me one of the funniest memories of my life.

To this day, any member of my immediate family can tell you this story. All you have to do is ask about our pet raccoon.

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