And there's a raccoon.
The cat throws a fit against the glass, and the raccoon, a thin and sad-eyed little thing, comes *right up to the glass door* and looks at me - I was close enough to see her wet little nose glistening in the light. She gazed at me in a strange sad way (the cat is still squealing and throwing herself against the glass). And then she looks around, and I see something else in the shadows, and this kit comes amblign along, and puffs itself all up when it notices the cat and the cat and the kit square off for a moment... and then another kit comes up. ANd another. THREE of them.
Momma ambles off but the cat is still squealing bloody murder in the study, so the raccoon comes ambling back. I put a finger against the glass and she follows it; I start gently pulling the finger upwards against the sliding doors, and she gets up on her hind legs and puts her hands on the glass and sniffles up to where my finger is resting, and then she comes back down again, tripping over two of the kits who were milling about aimlessly underfoot, and they all amble off into the night.
The cat's only just quit whimpering pitifully against the sliding door, for all the world calling out, "Come back! COme back!!! I haven't figured out what you *ARE* yet!"
I'm still grinning.
But I think I'd better go upstairs and close the slider on the upper deck. We really DON'T want raccoons in the house, or cats hanging onto screen doors in fits of hunting frenzy.