B-Town Undercover: Neighborhood Tracker

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by Shawn Underwood

Something strange has been happening in the hood. Tom and I were driving home from a friend’s home the other night when I noticed a raccoon crossing the road.

‘Watch out for that raccoon Tom.’

‘How many points will you give me if I hit him? Thump thump. Ha ha’

This is Tom’s idea of a joke, he simply changes the name of whatever, whoever is in the road. Old lady (2 points) squirrel (1 point) cat (5 points) you get the picture.

“What the heck? Why is that stupid raccoon just sitting in the road? Oh my Gawd, now look at him. He is standing on his hind legs with his paws outstretched!! Its like he’s begging for food. Don’t animals know their place on this planet? Raccoons are only one step up from rat on my vile creatures list.”

Of course, Tom also witnesses the begging raccoon, but I feel the need to narrate the scene—just like I do a movies. He hates that. (Two points for me.)

The wily creature gets no love from us and moves on to better site—perhaps someone’s back porch to scavenge some dog or cat food, which reminds me to close the garden gates because Mr. Big and Mr. Small’s pet door is a disaster waiting to happen. And for your information—a nice shot to the face with a garden hose is an excellent deterrent for raccoons. The following day we witnessed an even stranger sight.

Hoof prints on the beach of Three Tree Point. Clever observational skills (and a horse trailer parked by the beach access) allow me to deduce that the prints were indeed made by horses, though the number of horses galloping along the beach left me flummoxed. A barny-horsey smell wafted through the air and Mr. Small let out a series of annoying chimp-like yaps as he tugged madly on his leash. As we rounded the corner, we came upon three horses—large, medium and very small in correspondence with the riders. We caught up with them and of course, I had to ask.

“Nice day for a walk on the beach.” (Good opening line I thought, not too intrusive, but definitely begging for an answer.)

“We have the last farm in Seattle, these are our horses.” Said the rider on the smallest horse.

“You don’t say.”

Break in conversation as middle horse gets a bee in his bonnet and bucks his surprised rider into the drink.

“We were just written up in the paper, our taxes rose 830% on our farm.”

Astonished tones and commiserating grumbles on my part about ‘the man’ and ‘stick it to the man’. A useful phrase when talking about taxes, cable guys and the telephone company.

The trio moves on as Mr. Small continues to yip and tug on his leash.

And finally, a few months back, several more hoofed friends made an appearance. Did you know there is such a business as ‘goat trimmers’? For a fee, you can hire a goat or several goats to eat any overgrown patch you’ve avoided mowing.

That’s it from Old McDonalds Farm, I mean Three Tree Point.

Twenty-five years of living in Burien gives Humorist Shawn Underwood much fodder for her writings.

All of her stories are true, or at least have a grain of truth with no added embellishments.

Or something like that.

And have you bought her new book “Mommy Are We French Yet?” yet? Buy it here.

Read more of her humor at her website here.

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