Cleaning Coon

      “Aw, guys, come on! If you’re gonna go through the trash again, at least throw it back in the bin!” Rocky’s heart sank. One more job for the night. His friends scurried off, and he sighed. No matter how many times he tried to educate his friends, they never cleaned up after themselves. But it was too important to Rocky to leave behind, so his little black paws scurried to do what his heart couldn’t stop him from doing. In a few minutes, the debris was swept back into the trash can, and with a few heaves and pushes, the large barrel stood right side up again, just as if nothing had happened.

           It wasn’t like he was trying to cover up the fact that a band of raccoons had raided yet another human trash bin. Everyone knows that’s what they do. Rocky himself enjoyed picking through some freshly tossed kitchen waste, scavenging whatever leftovers he could find. That’s precisely why the humans threw scraps away, anyways. But in his mind, raccoons should be respectful not only of the humans’ generosity, but also to the planet. Reduce, reuse, and recycle was his favorite phrase he had ever overheard, and his earthy green heart embraced it as his motto for life. The only problem was getting the rest of the coons on board.

           He was definitely an odd ball with his friends and family in Dover. For most raccoons, dumpster diving was a complete game – and a competitive one at that. Who could raid the most trash cans in a night? Who could knock over the biggest trash bin? Who could steal the best snacks? They even deducted points for things like getting caught by a human mid-raid, or for being the slowest to finish a plunder. With competition like this, who had time to stop and put away the leftover messes? The plunder champion was held in highest regard for anything but “cleanest raids.”

           But Rocky was different. Even as a young coon, he never got any pleasure out of leaving destroyed trash cans behind, no matter how many goodies were hidden inside. As he learned to raid, his heart always ached as the group would grab their treasures and run off, leaving piles of plastic and wrappers littered all over the scene. At first, he was too little to stop and get left behind and lost. Soon enough, though, he started learning the routes, and he would linger behind just long enough to chuck a few pieces back into the trash bin and then scurry to catch up with his friends.

           Pretty soon, however, his friends started to wonder why he kept lingering behind. They suspected him of hiding some delicious treasure he didn’t want to share with the group. One night, the group scurried away, and Rocky begin darting around, tossing piece after piece of garbage back into the toppled bin.

           Suddenly, he turned around to see all three of his raiding buddies standing there, staring wide-eyed at him.

           “Uh, Rocky, what in the world are you doing?” Bandit asked tentatively.

           “Oh – haha – hey, guys!” Rocky stammered. “I was – I was just, you know, getting one last look around!”

           “You were throwing garbage into the garbage,” said Rita. “That’s so backwards.”

           “What?! No, no, I was just tossing it around, ya know? Filtering through all the plastic!” Rocky gave a nervous laugh.

           The coons stared at him. Then one of the raccoons stepped forward; he was the largest coon in the group, the plunder champion of the entire raccoon herd for the past three months. He was brass, relentless, and by far the most intimidating coon he had ever known. Boris peered down at Rocky now, his brows furrowed into an angry stare. “We watched you, Rocky. You can keep denying this all you want, but you have three eye-witnesses that you were throwing garbage back into the garbage can.” He leaned in a bit closer; Rocky gulped. “We don’t have time for these shenanigans! We have raiding to do; and I won’t keep a little neat freak like you from stopping my victory. Keep up with the group. Do I make myself clear?”

           Rocky shook his head nervously, stammering, “Y-yes, yes of course.”

           “Good. Then let’s finish this night right.” With that the three raccoons hurried along, and Rocky sighed and followed, his heart sinking knowing all that he was leaving behind.

           Back at the coon camp that evening, Rocky arrived, only to find that the story had already spread. Everywhere he turned, coon after coon was roaring with laughter at the little coon raider that couldn’t desert his plunder. And here started the constant name calling. Suddenly Rocky became the “Housemaid,” and the jabbing and joking never ended. Rocky eventually got kicked off his raiding team and became a lonesome raider. It wasn't as fun to do by himself, but at least he was able to make it a clean plunder every time without holding anyone back. Of course he came in last with every competition, but somehow, cleaning was more fulfilling.

     Months wore on, and Rocky got used to being a lone raccoon. His best friends become the stray cats, squirrels, and other animals he met along the way. None of them understood his need to save the environment, but they accepted him for who he was. Inside, however, Rocky desperately wanted to get his coon friends on board with him. He didn’t understand how none of them could care about what happened to our green earth!

           “Hey, guys, it only takes a second to throw that back inside!” He would say. Or, “Do you know what happens to all this litter if it clutters the earth?” Or, “I think it’s really important to do our part to save the environment. Humans pay fines for this kind of behavior! It’s illegal! We can have more class than this!” But none of his pleading, educating, or motivation convinced any of the coons. Rocky was starting to lose hope.

           Then, one day, the coon troop got some lifechanging news. Another group of raccoons was moving into the neighborhood. Their rural community was slacking on providing enough pickings for the growing group, so they decided to move a bit closer to the city. Dover provided the best balance of forest snacks and people scraps. But to Rocky and his friends, it was a threat. The coons worried about this new group taking over Dover and leaving nothing for their own families to eat! However, it turned out to be even worse than their worst fears.

           This coon group had a reputation for being hardcore scavengers. Their plunders put Dover’s raccoons to shame. As soon as the group moved in, the competition for trash raids skyrocketed, and suddenly, Boris didn’t seem as intimidating. Within just a short week, the amount of garbage left littered around the city almost tripled. Rocky was shocked.

           “And I thought my friends were bad,” he muttered to himself; his eyes wandered the alleyway in front of him. His stray cat friend, Gus, sat next to him, just as wide-eyed.

           “Rocky, you could hardly clean up after your own friends. Don’t tell me you’re gonna try to keep up with this destruction too,” Gus said. He licked his front paw and yawned, clearly not interested in Rocky’s predicament.

           Rocky looked back at him, “But I have to, Gus! The health of this city has depended on me. And now even more so! Can you imagine what would happen if I didn’t even try?”

           Gus shrugged, but Rocky took a deep breath and started diving into the alleyway, speedily tossing the garbage safely back inside its bins. And so he worked, every night, trying to restore peace and order back to the mess. Any time he saw a human, he noticed more yelling. Several humans started getting fines. Then police officers started showing up at night, cruising around, watching for wildlife, and then even showing up with guns! Rocky was terrified. He tried to warn his friends, but none of them would listen.

           “No, guys, you don’t understand! We have to start cleaning up better because if we don’t, they’ll start shooting! You’re not just going to lose points for getting caught by humans now – you’re going to lose lives!” Still no one listened. They were worried, yes, but still not convinced that cleaning was the solution.

           Rocky took it a step farther. One night, he approached the new racoon group to express his concerns. Every coon he saw was bigger than him. But Rocky bravely addressed them.

           “Hey, guys, so listen, I-um, we’re so glad you all moved in,” was his start. Rocky inwardly scolded himself. Way to go, Rocky! They’re not gonna want to listen to you! “Well, I just – we have all noticed a few changes in the neighborhood since you have all moved in that we think we need to address.”

           “Oh, yeah?” asked one of the coons. “We? Is that why you came by yourself?”

           “Oh, hah, well, no, I just was – I was the only one available,” Rocky gave a nervous laugh. “But well, listen, we really think a few things need to change for the best of our community, for everyone. See, before you guys, we never saw guns pointed at us at all. Now we are running from them every night! And it’s because of the amount of garbage getting left littered in the streets. First of all, it smells. And it looks awful. Secondly, it’s causing people to stop leaving their garbage out for us. The humans think we aren’t grateful for their generosity, and that means there’s less food available for all of us. Third, and most important, we are littering our green earth! We have a responsibility to protect and care for our environment! If it gets destroyed and there was something we could have done to stop it, we would regret it. We all need to band together and –“

           The raccoon cut him off. “Listen, little raccoon. We know who you are. You’re the Housemaid.” He and the other coons roared with laughter. “We have heard all about you, and we have no interest in joining your green movement. We’re doing just fine with what we have got. And where we come from, there’s guns everywhere every day. It’s part of the game.”

           “But, I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is now!” Rocky exclaimed.

           “Listen, Housemaid, you can clean up all you want, but you won’t make a difference. You’re overstepping your boundaries now. This isn’t our lifestyle.”

           Rocky begged once more, but the racoons were insistent. They were annoyed, and they made that blatantly obvious. In fact, throughout the next few weeks, the situation just got worse. Every night, Rocky slaved away cleaning up plunders, only to come back and see the same garbage he had picked up just an hour before littered again. At first, he was disappointed, but then, one night as he was returning to clean up the same spot for the second time that night, he heard snickering. He looked around for raccoons, but they scurried away before he could see them. But then he knew what was happening. They were messing with him now, purposefully returning to knock over the huge messes that he labored over. Rocky was exhausted. And discouraged. And overwhelmed. And worried for his life. More than once he had to hide from the sight of a gun; how would the police officer know he was cleaning up instead of plundering?

           Then one night, the unthinkable happened. He was returning back home and ran into Boris and his old raid team. They were high fiving each other, showing off their night’s wins. It seemed meager to Rocky, but he was tired of saying anything anymore. His friends made a few jabs at him, but Rocky just ignored them. Then suddenly, lights flashed out of nowhere. Rocky and his friends barely had time to turn around and recognize the figure behind the light: a police officer.

           “Run!” Rocky yelled. The raccoons scampered. But seconds later, they heard it. A gunshot.

           The raccoons froze for a second.

           “Rita! Guys, Rita got hit!” Bandit hollered.

           The raccoon friends scooped her up and rushed into hiding. They scampered back home, yelling for help. A few raccoons rushed up to hurry Rita away.

           Everyone wanted to know what happened. Bandit and Boris filled them in. Rocky sat silently watching. His heart was sinking more and more as he thought about what just happened. This was only going to get worse.

           “Rita will be okay, Rocky.” Bandit shook his arm.

           “Oh, good, okay, sorry, I spaced out,” Rocky replied.

           “Yeah, she got nicked, but we are having a team meeting right away,” Bandit said.

           The team meeting turned out to be a panic meeting. Reality was sinking in. Every raccoon was suddenly realizing the true danger they were facing. The raccoons huddled around, everyone asking questions, muttering under their breath, throwing out suggestions. Some wanted to move. Others wanted to drive out the new coons. Some just cried.

           Then suddenly, Bandit hollered out, “Hey, maybe we just need to clean.”

           The mob grew silent. Rocky’s ears perked up. He stared at Bandit. Bandit looked back, and then out at the suddenly silent crowd of raccoons. It seemed like they were actually considering it. Suddenly, Bandit realized they were all still staring.

           “Well, I just think that maybe we don’t need to get violent, or move or anything really. What if we just need to band together and clean up?” Bandit suggested.

           The raccoons paused. They all looked at each other, then at Rocky, then back at Bandit.

           Bandit motioned to Rocky. Rocky took a deep breath, then said, “Well, it really could work, guys. If we can get this place cleaned up well enough, then maybe the officers won’t think the guns are necessary anymore, and we won’t get run out of our homes.”

           The raccoons debated. After some mumbling amongst themselves, one of them spoke up. It was Boris.

           “I say let’s do it,” he said.

           “I agree,” came another voice.

           “I’m in,” said another.

           One by one the raccoons voiced their agreement until every single raccoon committed to the plan. Soon the cleaning bands were ready. Each raiding group was given an area of the city to clean. Group by group they headed out, ready to reverse the damage.

           When they were finished, the city looked immaculate. Rocky was almost holding back tears. His friends had finally gotten on board. When they gathered back around, he heard some raccoons expressing how surprisingly good it felt to make something more organized instead of less for a change. Rocky said nothing but, “Good work guys. We’ll have to keep it up to turn this around, but this was a great start!”

           Over the next week, the city began transforming. It was as if picking up garbage brought new life into the city. New plants started growing. Humans stopped yelling. And then, Rocky got a surprise visit from the new raccoons. Their band was hurting more than they had wanted to admit, but they saw that the Dover coons’ plan was working. Combined, all the raccoons transformed Dover. The guns soon disappeared, and the amount of garbage available to the coons became bountiful. And best of all, Rocky found his place back with his friends, who finally appreciated him exactly the way he was, the Cleaning Coon.