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Furry Little Tramps

I’ve come to notice that raccoons, the vagrants of the trees, are still rather active in this weather. They are called the vagrants of the trees, aren’t they? I’m sure that people have referred to them like that before. It’s just striking me now because their spirits at this time of year seem to be significantly higher than those of the regular kind of vagrant. This is despite the similarities in their dietary habits and living conditions.

“But Jaymes!” some might say. To that I say, “Jaymes!” I say this because I really just love hearing my own name. But some others might continue.

“But Jaymes, the raccoon revels in these temperatures due to its natural fur coating, which protects it from the elements that are so inimical to those who would walk the world upon two legs.”

Well, I often wear enough fur to cover three quarters of a raccoon at least, yet I’m frequently cold. I even throw on feathers. Admittedly, all of this is synthetic. Still, the average homeless man is quite adept in the use of layers, and it is not too uncommon to see a vagrant whose outfit exceeds the thickness of a raccoon’s integument. Perhaps I have a right to be surprised at the ineffectiveness of this strategy in raising the wearer’s comfort levels to those of the legendary raccoon. Admittedly, I gave up on warmth ages ago. I dress for aesthetics because I don’t believe that attempts to dress practically will actually do anything to affect my perception of the temperature. Surprise might not be appropriate.

Raccoons also seem to react with far greater glee to a discarded sandwich than a vagrant would. Conversely, raccoons don’t seem to receive small change with the same relish that homeless men display. On this, I think that I must take the side of the raccoons. The market value of a discarded sandwich is probably equal to the sum of several quarters.  

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.