Last Saturday I was invited to watch Nephew Fraser play lacrosse at Prospera Centre. (That's where the Chilliwack Bruins play hockey!) Not wanting to miss a chance at lunch with my Dad I met him at Victory Restaurant and then went on to Prospera to meet up with Wonda and The Boy.
I never finish an Alan sized portion. There's some food eating contestants that couldn't finish an Alan sized portion. A small army could live off his idea of three meals. So, needless to say, almost always does a bunny bag leave with me. This day's was about half of a shepherd's pie. Reaching the arena I just tucked the styrofoam container under the passenger's side seat and went inside.
Driving a Suzuki Sidekick softtop, I often drive with the front half of the softtop pushed back to enjoy the sun and wind. I rarely push it back forward when I park. If there's nay a cloud in the sky, what's the point? I'd just bake my car. When I came out from lacrosse I opened the door to see a very large furry object in the back of my car. This large furry object had dark black eyes chittered at me in irritation.
Yup. My car had grown a raccoon. Said raccoon was happily filling his paws with mashed potatoes and eating my shepherd's pie. I looked at the raccoon, he looked at me for a moment and went back to eating. "Aren't you supposed to need water to eat?" I asked. Apparently raccoons don't always wash their food before eating. I went around to the back of my car and grabbed out my scrapper/brush combo with the nice long telescoping handle, opened the passanger's side door and tried to shoo the pest out.
For a moment I thought he was going to pull a Sage and grab the poking device and smack me with it. Instead, Mr Raccoon grabbed another handful of potato and lumbered off on three paws. He chittered something at me from the safety of the median. I don't speak raccoon, but it sounded suspiciously similar to things my rabbits have said to me..