Animal Husbandry….Sort Of


I never meant for it to happen.

All I wanted was to spend a nice, quiet camping weekend with my sisters in the beautiful Whitaker Forest in East Texas.

The majestic pine trees, fresh water streams and ample flora and fauna promised a lovely, tranquil three days of bliss–away from the hustle and bustle and hassles of men. Here’s a photo of my sisters and me a few minutes before we embarked on our camping trip. I know we’re not in typical camping gear, but we Kendrick women are a rather formal lot.

That’s me on your far left. I’m clutching the arm of my middle sister, Karol and our oldest sister Kathy, is my bookend, so to speak.

We found a clearing in a lovely part of the Whitaker Forest, Karol and I made camp as Kathy–the true chef of the bunch, started making an early dinner.

Kathy is a true culinary artist: we supped on a delightful salad niciose, followed by the most scrumptious poached salmon with a rich and slightly piquant dill sauce. Green beans Almondine rounded out the second course and that was followed by a cherry flambe fit for a despot!


I was full and content, so I decided to fend off the caloric onslaught of the gastronomic feat I had just consumed by taking a constitutional around the forest. It was getting dark and I didn’t want to walk far.

I happened on a lovely babbling brook and decided to stop for a brief respite. The sounds made by the brook were hypnotic, so I laid down and was soon lulled into slumber.

I was awakened by the feeling of a slight weight on top of me. Four little paws walking all over me. I opened my eyes and screamed. It was a raccoon attempting to have carnal knowledge of me!!! I tried to shoo him away but he was too forceful. He said to me in that half raccoon shrill/half human command, “Shut up. I love you and must have you for my own. My name is Key and I’m a MoonCoon. I’m human by day and a full-on garbage rummaging, attic dwelling, horny, litter siring raccoon at night”.

I looked into his eyes. They were black– typical of a raccoon of course, but I also saw raw human emotion in them.

“I need a semi- beautiful, almost natural blond with a pulse, to bear my half human/half raccoon offspring”.

“Why me?”, I asked.

He looked at me with coon incredulity and asked, “Are you serious? Geez woman, look around you! We’re in the middle of East Asshole and there’s no one around for miles. And if I don’t procreate tonight when the moon is full, I’ll never be able to. It has to be tonight.”

I laid there for a moment thinking. I was getting older and my love life was in shambles and maybe having a half coon/half human child would do something to reignite my lackluster broadcast career.

“OK, I’ll play baby factory”.

But he insisted, “No, I’m old fashioned. We need to go out on a date first. I’ll take you to dinner. He ran over to a clump of bushes…there was a rustling sound and then he scurried to the brook clutching something. A field mouse was in his right paw and in true raccoon form, he began washing it. He brought it to me.

“Oh, that does look delicious” I said. “But I just had dinner”.

“Suit yourself. Now, let’s get it on”. He threw the mouse over his shoulder, then threw himself on top of me.

It was the best 4.8 seconds of my life.

We were both smoking a post coital cigarette when I asked, “Now what? Will I ever see you again”.

“Maybe. Who knows how the wheel of fortune spins. If our paths cross, fine…so be it. In a few years I’ll be able to make a choice to spend my life as more human than raccoon. When that happens, I want to move to Colorado, sell heavy equipment and write in a blog. But we’ll always have this moment. I have to go. There’s a campsite a mile from here where the Coreys, Haim and Feldman spent a week and the place is filthy and God knows what illicit drugs we’ll find there. Time to party!!!! So, you take care and be a good mom to our childcoon”.

And with that, he scampered off.

I went back to camp and said nothing about my encoonter with Key. Two days later, we left. And as we drove out of the lush Whitaker Forest, I wondered if I’d ever see this little critter ever again.

Long story short—I left my wallet at the campsite. Key says he went there looking for garbage, but I think he went there on the off chance he’d see me. Instead, he found a pristine campsite and the wallet I dropped. Inside was my driver’s license.

I realized I was pregnant right off the bat. Morning sickness, craving nuts and berries and this insatiable urge to sleep in the attic.

The pregnancy had some stressful moments. It was as if Key sensed that. He hitched a ride on the back of a Houston bound logging truck.

Gestation for a half human/half raccoon fetus is a mere six months. When I reached five and a half months, I needed bed rest and my vet had me admitted it to the Sherry Lewis Memorial Animal Hospital. I was in the Rudd Weatherwax Neo-Natal Ward.

Somehow, KeyCoon found me and visited me in the hospital every day. Here’s a picture of me…looking very ripe with fetus.


As you can see, I started developing some raccoon features. As my vet, Dr. Didlittle explained, it was something about the raccoon DNA of my child and my hormones. Being pregnant with a half child is tough on full human women. For some reason, we become quite homely while enciente.

I hardly recognized myself in this photo—my hair turned darker and kind of feathery around my forehead, my chins are prominent–one is rather pointed, I grew sideburns and my face was wide enough to show an IMAX film on one of my cheeks. But with four ears, I could hear a pin drop—-IN KANSAS!!!

Key assured me I was still semi-beautiful.

My water broke at 3:00 the following morning. Six hours later, I gave birth to a lovely half raccoon/half human daughter. Key was delighted. We named her Bagel.


Because Key and I were big fans of that all-important first meal of the day and his sister already named her daughter “English Muffin” and my other name choice, “Toast and Assorted Breakfast Breads” just seemed too long.

The Family Coondrick, as I called us, went home the next day and Key was, for a while there, a very devoted father. Here he is as a human, doting on Bagel. By the way, infant half kids always appear far more raccoon in the first few months of their lives.

Life was good. We were happy. That’s evident in these family photos.

The one below was taken just as I had walked in the door from my Kabuki Theater class (that would explain the whitish color of my face). Key is returning to coon status as you can see by the top part of his head and three ears:

Little Bagel had just learned to stand up. She loved her hat and toy fiddle. Yes, we were happy.

“Were” being the operative word.

Here’s the last family photo ever taken. It’s my favorite.

Bagel is finally showing more human traits. Cute, huh?

Then, things started to change…namely Key was changing. We started talking less, fighting more. He’d go out at night and come home hours later with garbage on his breath. He started losing weight, changing the style and color of his hair and wearing sexy clothes and underwear.

And I knew we were in trouble when he started wearing an astrological medallion and several gold chains. There was no doubt about it…Key was cheating on me with other women. He was probably seeing other raccoons, too. The thought galled me. Of course, I imagined hot little ring-tailed forest sluts with six-to-eight teats.

How could I compete with that???

Here he is, Mr. Swinger Raccoon, sitting on the diving board of our swimming pool.

He’s washing our dinner.

This is the last photo I took of my Key. He left two days later. A note on the kitchen table indicated he no longer wanted to be “tied down”. He wanted a pursuit a new life, but he wasn’t going back to Whitaker Forest. He wanted to see what destiny had in store for him at the nearby Gump Forest.

I hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. I went on to become a writer. Bagel grew up to be a smart and vivacious young woman coon. She followed in her mother’s journalistic footsteps and his now the Editrix-In-Chief of the widely popular blog,

I found Key again. A few weeks ago, on his blog–just as he said. It’s called The Keywork. He’s very talented, as coons go. We’ve exchanged a few e-mails, but the magic is gone. Plus, he has another life and assures me he’s happy.

I hope he is.

I know I am.

In fact, I have to go now. I must get ready for a date. My neighbor’s Black Lab will be here any minute.


Thanks Missy !!


  1. If you want to go off and shag a raccoon that’s fine with me. I hope you can both get together again for the sake of the youngster. But I have to pull you up on a point of safety. It is a seriously bad idea to flambe any food near a tent. They can be made of very imflammable material. You could all have been badly burned. Please be more careful next time. Hope things go well with Rocky (If you know your Beatles you’ll get that one).

  2. Key,

    No other raccoon-nuh (if you know you’re Beatles, you’ll get THAT too!!) holds a candle to you…not Rocky, not Rory, not even Kelly Osborne in full make-up.

    Don’t be jealous. We’ll always have Bagel!!

  3. Kelly is a fearsome one for sure. And Bagel seems to have adjusted, did she get a third nipple? Just wondering. Something smells dead, I’m off to find and most likely eat it.

  4. Yes, I remember how you used to sniff our cat’s ass.

    Well, I know you’re have your life and I have mine. Just let Bagel know where you are and every once in a while, let her know you care with a note, a letter, some nuts or a titmouse’s rectum–she is very much like her father.

    You both love the same snacks.

    I must go now. I have a doctor’s appointment. Proctologist, if you must know.

    Having YOUR half coon child tore the ass out of me.

    But I’m NOT bitter.

  5. Daddy,

    You’ll be happy to know that Bagel has seen the video of her birth, too. Many times in fact, and when she was bad and misbehaved, I’d play it backwards.

  6. The miracle of ass-birth. I wish I hadn’t eaten all of the congratulatory cigars. Or the ugly twin. I’m assuming she had to watch that part as well.

  7. I knew this was coming eventually. We had to get the whole story and now we have it. I read Keywork’s blogs of racoon frustration. BTW, typing coon looks funny from my fingers…

  8. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AJ. You’re so funny!

    Don’t think that typing the word DIDN’T stir something within me, too! It’s still bothers me. I still find it inappropriate, even though the intent behind it is purely innocent. You know–like wearing white patent leather shoes after Labor Day.

    In this case though, I assure you AJ, it’s ALL ABOUT THE RACCOON!!!!


  9. It is all about the raccoon. And yes, AJJ, if I could have been an animal not associated with a racial slur, believe me, I would have. I apologize for my genetic misfortune. (raccoon noise)

  10. you know i always had a funny feeling that bagel was a hybrid humoon. Although I’m a little disturbed that bagel was an offshoot of LK. I mean it explains a lot but I’m not gonna lie to you when I say it’s a bit disturbing. But regardless, i’m a tolerant, open minded person so i accept the fact that you’re part of the bandit family. And I’ll love you no matter what…until you go rummaging through my trash. Then i’ll have to put you down.

  11. Oh I get it, CJ. It’s fine that Bagel is half raccoon, huh? You’re ALL about that!! Fine, tolerant..whatever. But what you REALLY find disturbing is that she’s MY daughter?

    Know what, CJ?? I should tell you, right here and right now to just EAT ME but I’ve been to your blog many times and based on the many, MANY pictures of food that you always post, you carb munching bastard, you probably would eat me….LITERALLY!!

    Love ya,

  12. You’re right, Daughter. I am a whore.

    I’m going to church right now to douche with holy water.

    Mea culpa.

    PS..that you didn’t know the racial connotation attached to the word “Coon” gives me hope. Maybe fewer people are using it in that context these days. Consider yourself “lucky”.

    I do.

  13. Only humans could find a way to further soil my soiled reputation. Laurie, I don’t think they keep enough holy water on tap to take care of the task.

    rotting carcass kisses,


  14. I wouldn’t say I didn’t know it as a slur, it just didn’t come to mind.
    I talk alot of shit on my site, but I’m the sweetest cuddliest girl who’s ever kicked a sleeping puppy in the nads. Honest.

  15. Bagel,

    I talk shit, too. You know, tough talking, TV and radio bitch woman/man who don’t take no shit, no how from nobody.

    The reality is, on the inside, I’m really fluffy nougat. Shut up KEYWORK!!! DO NOT MAKE A JOKE!

    At one time, you really **loved** creamy nougat, you prickcoon!!!

  16. I still heart creamy nougat. I don’t heart child support. Sorry Bagel, but when I turn human, I usually spend the entire day wandering back to civilization. Hard to find work when you don’t know which county dump you’ll be waking up in.

  17. I wonder if he had any sisters in the deer family? The last time I went camping I awoke to such a loving embrace by the sweetest deer. Warm, loving. Two years later she transformed into what she REALLY was–a mean bitch!

  18. That was more of an in and out deal, 2 second lease, immediate eviction, 2 second lease. Call it what you will. The Ass Condos were more like Ass Dormrooms. That was the appeal of your real estate.

  19. The more I look at those pics, the more I think that Laurie actually channelled Siouxie Sue rather than a raccoon.

    And don’t be down on coons – Gene L. Coon directed several intriguing episodes of ‘Star Trek’

  20. Ha! Frontier! That’s who she was reminding me of. You’re good. She does a mean Siouxie impression in that pic–possibly post Sex Pistols groupie.

    There are other good “coons” too. Like Main Coon cats. I ironically have a half Main Coon kitty.

  21. Talk about confused. Maine Coon cat indeed. No way in hell am I slumming it with one of those things. I made that mistake once already. None of the positive features of a raccoon, all of the negative features of a feline. And I thought evolution gave me a shitty deal.

  22. I apologise, keywork, for comparing you to the much inferior Rocky. I am a sucker for alliteration and it just got the better of be. Sorry.

  23. Yeah, I remember.

    I also remember when your family would visit..the pure coon side. They’d ask me what I was ethnically and you’d say…..Finnish.

    You and your cousins used to love it when I’d try to open beer bottles…and MY GOD..cans were a hoot too!

    How Bagel’s diapers ever got changed is beyond me…OH WAIT! I ate them off of her. Remember, it’s isn’t incest when solid and/or organic waste and raccoons are concerned

  24. You called it “Infamil Stew”. You’re family loved it, too!

    Remember that one thanksgiving when Bagel got that nasty intestinal virus? One would’ve thought your side of the family was celebrating Thanksgiving!

  25. Remember those summers in the forest? We’d meeting near the hollow trees and ALL of your family would get together? No one called them family reunions..Oh no– Family Coonventions.

    200-250 coons as far as the eye could see? Everyone looked alike. I only recognized you because you always had a piece of diaper hanging out of the corner of your mouth.

  26. Fine. This conversation is beneath even you, KeyCoon Let’s continue on at another locale…our second favorite place to fight…your blog.

    copy and paste

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