Night before last, we both woke up when we heard what sounded like someone throwing bricks at the house.

“What the hell is that?” I asked My Darling B, as if she would know.

“I don’t know,” she answered, not unreasonably.

I grabbed the flashlight by the bed, pulled up the blinds and shone the flash through the window all around the back yard. Nothing.

There had to be something out there that would account for all that noise, though, so I went to the rear entrance where I would be able to see the side of the house. When I shone the flashlight out the window there, the first thing I noticed was the raccoon.

He was about the size of a Labrador retriever, sitting on the step up to the deck. He didn’t have a bandit’s mask. He stared back at me for several minutes as if he was waiting for me to make the next move, and then, when I didn’t do anything but watch him, he shuffled off the step in no great hurry and ambled off across the yard. But he didn’t throw anything at the house. I’m not sure what he did to make all that noise.