nature, redux.

Like everybody else, I'd wondered how I would know my raccoon when I saw him. And I imagine my face was the same as all of theirs, when the moment came, like that of someone who has been looking for the remote control, only to realize that the television is already tuned to the channel they want, and that their program is starting right then. I know exactly what my face looked like because my raccoon was holding a mirror, in his right paw, when he popped up from behind the car.

He was dressed to the nines: tux and tails, stovepipe hat, spats: the works. His monocle caught the light like a facet on a diamond watch. He stuck out his tongue at me, and I mine, back at him. It seemed like the right thing to do.