It was late -- probably past 2 AM, knowing Mike's and my absurd hours. Mike was pacing our living room while I sat on the couch, both of us trying to work through some writing problem so crazy that the answer could only work itself out when any normal people in the area had already given in to good sense and gone to sleep. Mike was in the middle of a potentially world-changing sentence when we heard it from the street below.

"Mmrraaawwwwwwwwwwwww!"

An otherworldly yelp. The type of bizarre noise an animal makes only when it's thrown into an extraordinarily bad circumstance. And given our recent experiences, there was only one answer:

"The raccoon just killed a cat," I said.

And it was clear that that was the answer. The raccoon had tasted its first victim a few yards away from our doorstep. Thankfully, it was only a cat. God only knows what would've happened had some wayward latchkey kid been wandering the mean streets of Westwood at this unfortunate hour.

Now, someone else might say, "But there are literally thousands of other reasons that an animal might make a noise you've never heard before. How did you know it was the raccoon at fault, Tim? And how did you even know it was a cat that was being attacked? If it was really that bizarre a sound, it could've been anything!"

To which I respond: I am the friend of the animals. You see, my middle name is Francis. For those of you who were raised Catholic or majored in religious studies at school, you know that St. Francis of Assisi was the patron saint of animals. As a result, I am linked to all wildlife. Their concerns are my concerns, and vice versa. For instance, if I am really hungry, I know that there is a cow out there saying, "I really want to help Tim out. Could someone please come by and make me into a delicious burger for him?" And so it is. Likewise, when my animal brethren are terrorized by a vicious predator, I feel their fear for their own well-being. So when I hear a bizarre, vaguely feline yelp from outside my window in the dead of the night, I know without hesitation the source of the noise. And the source of the noise in this case was raccoon violence.

Also, how could the raccoon NOT be behind it? It is the size of a Toyota Yaris and maintains a swagger. I defy you to prove to me that it is not the most likely cause of nocturnal cat death.

You also might ask, "Tim, if you're linked to all animals, then why can't you just communicate with the raccoon to find out where he is and what he's doing? Wouldn't this be the best way to solve all of these problems?" This happens to be a stupid question that does not dignify an answer. I will therefore ignore it and leave you hanging by your anxious fingertips to the edge of the towering spire of tension and paranoid fear that is Raccoon Blog.