A Little Slice of Life
Just the other day, near my home, one of those bandido-masked critters came out of the woods. He wasn't doing much when I saw him, just sort of hanging out and sniffing the dirt at the bottom of the big cedar tree. I watched from my doorway. Right about then, I heard a cherubic young voice. A little girl, maybe four years old, had also seen the raccoon, and she was enchanted.
"Hi, kitty!", the apple-cheeked darling piped up, waving her chubby little arms enthusiastically.
She was not much of a zoologist, this young one, for she had mistaken procyon lotor for felis domesticus. In view of her tender years, such an error was understandable and even charming. But it was fraught with peril. Raccoons, you see, are wild animals. They have wicked sharp teeth, they are known to carry rabies, and you really don't want to get cozy with them. Yet little Goldilocks, waddling toward that glorified, ringtailed rat with squeals of innocent delight, was clearly intent upon so doing.
Now, picture yourself in my place. As a dutiful citizen, I had the choice to act in loco parentis, meaning that I could lay a firm-but-gentle guiding hand upon the little one, and guide her firmly but gently out of harm's way. Yet in view of modern reality, with the rabies of feminism and political correctness coursing through the social bloodstream, it was needful I should have a care for my self-preservation. Surely, the undue imputations that might be drawn should I, a burly adult male, lay hands upon a four-year-old girl, offered a wicked set of fangs in their own right.
It took me all of two seconds to make my decision. I would let the little girl have her rendezvous with the "kitty". So I went back indoors and sat down, and quietly thanked feminism for creating such a dilemma. A moment later the tragic screaming and sobbing reached me faintly through the wall.
Stunned silence in reader-land.
But lift yourself up, gentle reader. The ending to that story never really happened. In reality, the little girl's mother was standing nearby, and she immediately stepped in and dragged the girl to safety, admonishing her sternly: "That's not a kitty! That's a wild animal! Stay away!"
Ah, thank goodness for mothers! Who the hell needs fathers, anyway?