Tuesday, January 29, 2008

A Story About a Racoon

I worked in a bookstore for a long time.

I remember when I embarked on my journey with Barnes and Noble when I was 18, and my sister commented, "You know, it's going to be really boring!"


I was there for over five years and there was absolutely never a dull moment...(and when there WERE dull moments I would hide in the corner and reread my favorite Judy Blume novels and relive my childhood...)

We had laughs.

We had tears.

And sometimes, we even have true disasters.

Like the racoon incident.

A racoon crawled into our receiving room and wasn't looking too hot. He (or she) curled-up and settled on the floor right next to the door.

Now, I was the only girl working at the store at the time, and some might also say that would have made me the only one with common sense.

When I heard the commotion about the sick racoon in the receiving room, I suggested that we call the ASPCA.

This was also the day of the big American Girl Tea Party. I was tied-up in the children's department, and wasn't sure what had happened to the racoon.

After the little girls left, I went-out into Big People Land to find out what happened to that sickly racoon.

Me: So...how's the racoon?
Male Coworker: Don't ASK.
Me: Did the ASPCA come?
Male Coworker: Uh, YEAH. And they RAN OVER IT.
Me: Wait, what?
Male Coworker: They came in their truck! And they pulled into receiving! And they just RAN OVER THE RACOON! And they get out of the car, and they go, "Where's the racoon?" and we said, "YOU JUST RAN HIM OVER!" And then they put him in a garbage bag and drove away.
Me: Oh, come on...you're kidding.
Male Coworker: Could I MAKE this up?

He wasn't.

The poor racoon had been run over and killed. The guys actually took it worse than I did, since they had witnessed the accident, while I was in the back of the store reading about Felicity and Molly.

Now, I know that this poor animal needed to be put out of his misery anyway...but that is definitely not the method I would have chosen.

I still think about that racoon.

Diana Rissetto