SATAN THE RACCOON 



my breakfast. At first I did not let Satan 

 out of his cage on Sundays, on account of 

 the dogs that my visitors brought along. 

 Every Sunday morning I would feed Satan 

 as soon as I was out of my hammock, as I 

 did on week-day mornings, but he would not 

 eat or drink, and constantly tried to open the 

 door of the cage. He certainly knew, thus 

 early in the morning, that it was Sunday, and 

 he would have to remain hived up in his cage 

 all day. It seemed to me, that if Satan was 

 intelligent enough to keep run of the days 

 of the week, he ought to know about the dogs, 

 and was willing to fight them rather than be 

 cooped up all day. I knew all about the 

 fighting ability of the raccoon. It had been 

 my good fortune to observe the evolution of 

 a young coon, from a helpless, sprawling 

 bunch of fat and fur, to an old coon, with 

 a bristling battery of claws and teeth operated 

 by chain-lightning. After due consideration 

 I concluded to let Satan take chances with 

 the dogs. The next Sunday I staked him 

 in the dooryard and awaited developments. 

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