For my free write, I decided to write a story (based on true events).
Two Feet from Disaster
At dawn, as the morning star rises, I wake to my dog barking. He is, as always, a maniac, desperate to leap into the just-a-little-too-crisp morning air. Today–as everyday–he assumes a cheerful trot as soon as we head down the short path toward the tall hedge of arborvitae. Those trees, after all, are his spot, his outhouse–so to speak–and he quickly finishes his business. But this time something isn’t quite right. The leash grows so taut that I stop caring about the stench erupting from my puppy’s most recent production. Two seconds pass, and here I am, competing against my dog in a tug-of-war to the death. I look far across the yard to see if there is a creature in the distance. Or perhaps a bird getting just a little too close…something to account for his behavior. But I see nothing.
What is causing my super-cute pup to make such a scary growl? I bend down to look under the red sedan in the driveway. Maybe he sees a chipmunk. I am at my wit’s end. There are no eagles diving and no squirrels running. As I get back up from looking under the car, my eyes shift and there it is: a gray raccoon-like thing (probably a raccoon actually) burrowing into the corner of my driveway–about two feet away from my dog and me.
I know three things about raccoons: One, they are nocturnal, and two, they could have rabies, and three, Rocket in Guardians of the Galaxy is a raccoon. I sprint to the patio, slowing down on the stairs so that my dog can keep up, swing open the back door, right after, swinging it back shut. I win the tug-of-war match. My mom hears the bang from the door being shut abruptly and immediately draws her attention to me and the dog. Frantically, after a couple of tries, I manage to make out the word, “racoon.” My siblings and father are now gathered around me. “Did a raccoon bite you?” “Did the raccoon bite the dog?” “Did you see a raccoon?” “Where is the raccoon?” I take a deep breath and briefly explain that the raccoon is curled up in the corner of the driveway and that I did not notice and I am not a hundred percent sure if it had contact with the dog. We go upstairs and enter the deck to get a better look from up above. My mom searches her phone for the animal control number and begins to dial it. We all wait anxiously for someone to pick up the phone. No one does. Then, my mom dials 911. Someone answers. My mom goes on to explain the scenario as we all continue peering at the raccoon from the deck. My mom hangs up, “they will be here in five minutes.”
Ding-Dong! Of course, my dog starts barking when he hears the doorbell ring. My dad answers the door. The police officer, already aware of the situation, follows my dad to the back of the driveway to see where the raccoon is. My dad goes back inside and the officer returns to his vehicle. About ten minutes later, my family and I see the police officer put earmuffs on and exit his vehicle with a large gun. My siblings and I begin to comment on what the neighbors are thinking if they see this happening as well, but are unaware of the rabid raccoon in our driveway. My mom is urging me and my siblings to go to our rooms and not watch, however, we are not listening–we are too focused on what is happening outside. Another ten minutes goes by and we hear a gunshot (it was actually a lot quieter than we were expecting).
A few minutes pass, and we hear a knock on the front door. The police officer asks my dad for a shovel and a garbage bag which my dad then gets and gives to the officer. A few more minutes pass, and we hear another knock. This time the officer was telling my dad that the raccoon, now deceased, is in the bag in the front yard and to bring it out tonight so it can be picked up tomorrow on garbage pick-up day. The officer drives away. I continue sitting on the couch and try contemplating what has just happened. I trace back the events as ‘what-ifs’ continue to flow through my head.
What if the raccoon did bite my dog and I did not realize? What if the raccoon did bite me and I am going to have to get one of those really big needles they show on television? What if?
More and more (mainly irrational) thoughts continue to flood my mind throughout the day and into the night.
In the end, everything worked out fine and everyone was safe. The rabid raccoon was no longer struggling either. Sometimes, what-ifs still float in my mind.
What if I did not have a dog to signal that there was a rabid raccoon? What then?
