Many decades ago I brought home a yellow lab puppy and named him after a fishing port in Oban, Scotland. I had read an article about Oban in National Geographic and learned also that there is a scotch brewery by this name there. Being a lover of scotch, the choice of name was easy.

As Oban grew bigger he started bringing home small animals; once a kitten, a few painted turtles, a baby goose and a baby raccoon. I think Oban just wanted a playmate because he never harmed these animals, he played with them. I ended up adopting most of his furry and feathered friends but steered the turtles back to the pond.

The raccoon I named Calhoun only because it rhymed. I never kept Calhoun penned up with hopes that he would someday return to the wild.

A close friend stopped by one day and after a chat over coffee he asked to use my bathroom. I had forgotten that I’d left Calhoun in the bathtub with a couple of inches of water covering the bottom, along with a hundred or so minnows I had trapped from the pond. I was keeping Calhoun entertained and trying to teach him how to someday catch his own food in the wild.

Upon entering the bathroom, my friend let out a stream of laughing swear words when minnows suddenly began flipping about on the floor near the toilet.

As Calhoun grew older, he and Oban would go off on walks at night and sometimes not return until morning. One morning Peggy Freydberg [at present she is 104 years old] was sipping tea and looked out to see Oban and Calhoun walking down her driveway, “paw in paw together,” as she put it. Peggy lived close to two miles from my house.

Another time Calhoun bit my father in law on the nose and being a minister he had to explain to his congregation why he had such a large bandage on his face. I missed this sermon but understand it drew lots of laughter.

When the cold air arrived in winter, Calhoun would disappear for a few weeks and then suddenly just show up out of the blue.

The last time I saw Calhoun I was out walking along the high cliffs of Squibnocket checking out the erosion. I jumped down on a ledge that had fallen and when I looked up I was eyeball to eyeball with a big raccoon. I hoped it was Calhoun because it leaped off the bank and threw his arms around my neck. Thankfully, it was Calhoun and instead of ripping out my jugular he licked my face all over.

I climbed back up on the cliff and shared with Calhoun a couple of Easter eggs that I had in my pocket. I never saw Calhoun again.

I don’t recommend having a raccoon as a pet because they are a handful. You don’t own them and they eventually own you, meaning that they’ll wreck the inside of your house, they’ll poop under your bed and wipe their butts on your pillow. Raccoons also like to bite and often break your skin, drawing blood. It was fun having Calhoun but I’ve chosen to never raise another one.