Fuki in his Taxi arrives home asleep.
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Fuki in his Taxi arrives home asleep.
Discussions in the front seat went along the lines of "we can always turn him over to rehab, let's see how he settles in", meaning if we can't get along with a 10 week old, we don't deserve to have him -- they can turn him into a "natural" Raccoon right away, fussing and fighting over each rare scrap of food with his own kind, feared and molested by people, and turned into paté by other predators.
Dorcas MacClintock ("A Natural History of Raccoons", Scribner's Sons, New York, 1981) reports that the lifespan of Raccoons in the wild averages 1.3 to 3.1 years, while it is usually 12-18 years under human sponsorship. As she says "For all the 'born free, living free' sentiment, an animal in captivity whose habitat is well simulated and whose diet is varied and adequate has a good life". Besides, ever since we'd raised one on a bottle a few years ago, and he was our beloved companion, to raise another was a constant yearning in our hearts. John's nightmare was, for us, a dream come true.
But what a specimen! Mr. Previous Raccoon had been a piece of cake. We'd found him in the road, wandering unsteadily, about seven weeks old, and after a few hisses, he had, within a half hour, settled on my wife's lap and taken to the bottle with a manic delight. He had then slept in our bed, and followed my wife's feet around, in proper Raccoon fashion, wherever this big new Momma went.
But this guy was older. Rose Pickers, with their thick cowhide, turned out to be important. Now in our Western United States, rabies in Raccoons is a rarity. Not a single case in the last 10 or more years, I've been told. But it could conceivably happen. Which translates to two weeks of surely not getting bitten, which should be time enough for signs to show, in the unlikely event the disease is there (the incubation period can on rare occasions last up to one year, in all species, including dogs, but it is only right before signs appear that the saliva can transmit the disesase, which is where the observation guidelines come from -- that's what the standard Merck Manual says, anyway). He sure looks like a healthy little carnivore, but no use taking chances. Handling him tested the gloves to the max. Good thing his canines are still small. Lots of hissing, FFFFFFOOK, FFFFOOK, bite. We named him Fooky, or better yet, Fuki San. Yes, it's a boy, unless that little organ set is some sort of growth. He swallowed a little formula, enough to prevent dehydration, and was placed in the bathroom, for now.
Fuki San dribbles Formula.
Behind the toilet is a good spot, cool and secluded. He does not know how to lap or eat yet, so it's going to be a bottle job for a while.