Bye, Big Bob?

What to write about today.....  The acupuncturist visited Remy this morning, so I'll be walking him and Rosie about 2:30 this afternoon.  The cold front that was forecast came through; it's almost noon and it's not quite 60 degrees outside.    Mocha goes home with Coffeepot Sunday afternoon - then I'll head back to Sammie and Tuppurr, my charges until Tuesday.  On Wednesday, I head over to take care of Tessa, Lilly, Lyra, and Dhisana; and I'll be with Cloudy and Shady for Thanksgiving.  I need to double-check with the Snitmans to see if they still want me at Christmas for 10 days.  Lovey is curled up in the middle of my bed, Mocha is inside the foam kitty cube, and Nedi is sunning on the patio.

Since Chokie, my ex-neighbor, complained to the management about my feeding the birds and the squirrels, I have only put out a bit of nuts on cold and snowy days.  And I've made sure that I don't have food out that the raccoons can rummage for.  When I first moved in, there was one very large coon that had a bobbed tail that came by every night.  I called it Bob (very original, I know).  Three months later, I re-named her Bobbette, as she came through with two kits.  I called the kits Frankie and Bob.  Bobbette was around until the evil neighbor in building B started poisoning all the critters (including my Banichi); she disappeared.  I have assumed that either (a) the neighbor poisoned Bobbette, or (b), that Bobbette finally got hit by a car.  After several years of running through the backyard area on a nightly basis, I still call the kits Frankie and (Big) Bob.  They still climb up on my patio furniture and look in the windows, seeking a handout.  I still resist. 
This past Monday night, I was reading, as usual, and I heard three distinct pistol shots.  Since I didn't hear any police sirens afterwards, I convinced myself that it must have been something else that made the shot sounds.  (But I looked at my clock as soon as I heard the first and the two that followed were about 90 seconds apart.)  No ambulance sirens, no fire sirens, no police sirens.  I decided that I really was losing my mind.  Tuesday afternoon, a small write-up appeared in the local newspaper.  It was about a man who was dining late on the patio at the Millennium Harvest House Grill (which is directly east of me, with only the privacy fence and parking lot between us).  He stated that just before 10 p.m., he had been seated and while looking at the menu, realized that a very large raccoon was looking at him.  The raccoon wandered around nearby while the man ordered and awaited his food.  The raccoon did not seem to be afraid of people.  When the man was served his food, the raccoon reportedly climbed up the back of the man's chair and bit him on the back, "to make sure I got out of the way for him," the man said.  The manager of the grill was immediately  notified, and the raccoon was caught in a large metal trash can.  The police were called.  They arrived and shot the raccoon - hence the three shots I heard.  The coon's remains were sent to be tested for rabies.  I have the feeling that the test will come back negative  - and I haven't seen (nor heard) Frankie and Big Bob since.  I think that Big Bob's greediness finally caught up with him.