Sad but true (sort of!)

"We just got word from the cousins that a party is on the other side." The very large family of raccoons got excited, for it had been at least a day since the last big party. Time is a strange commodity in the raccoon world for its passing has no meaning and no memory, thereby causing an instinctual goal direction based primarily on selfish motives, food, shelter, and moments of pleasure.

So young and old, a misnomer in the raccoon world since they have little concept of the maturation process, gathered their belongings, namely themselves and headed toward the great event. The older ones had a fleeting memory of a similar event occurring at some point previously, but unable to recollect any details, they proceeded forward with a vague but ill-defined sense of dread. Raccoons, like any other animal, develop a sort of conditioned response to their environment that is designed to meet their individual and collective needs in some ways, but mostly to maintain a sense of self-preservation. This particular evening, some of the old raccoons became a little curious as to the consequences of their journey to the party; but alas, as often happens with animals, they were unable to articulate their fears and instead set out for the raccoon party.

Darkness finally arrived and their journey began. But night is a different sort of experience for a raccoon and goals are not really goals. While the party sounded exciting, the aroma of trash or fish or cat food or really anything eatable (a real word by the way, go look it up!), is a major distraction, often resulting in completely forgetting any original agendas. Strangely, however, this particular night, those raccoons who did get distracted were saved from the sad event that occurred later.

While many raccoons addressed the delectable odor of trash and cat food and selfishly attended to their own desire for food, the rest of the group headed across the busy road toward the party. But this particular night was a busy one as well for drivers. Perhaps a human party in Brownwood caused more traffic than usual; or perhaps many had to work late, or maybe others were out for a late night spin. Whatever the case, the excess of vehicles resulted in tragedy for many raccoons who were unable to cross the road. The speed of a truck going 65-70 miles per hour was too much for several of the raccoons and the end came swiftly. Sadly their death did serve a purpose by balancing the ecosystem and providing food for the vultures.

For mighty Casey there was no joy in Mudville the next day, but for the raccoons, since their memory banks were nearly non-existent, their joy and desire for food overrode any kind of fear. Perhaps some wondered about the missing raccoons, or maybe they instinctually knew that the road was dangerous. But nevertheless, such logic required cognition of which they were not capable. And sure enough, word of another party reached the ring-tailed mammals and off they went where some once again met their doom. Such is the life of a raccoon on a Saturday night.