Dawn awakening

This morning I was awoken by a shrill shriek, and some loud growling noises. I looked out my bedroom window, in the space underneath the South African flag that I use as a blind. I saw an animal, leaping across the lower half of my neighbour’s roof. Only its back half was visible, and only for an instant, as it leaped beyond the tree that straddles my fence. Its legs were extended, and its tail was long and thin, like a cat’s. Its skin appeared golden in the morning sunrise. The time was 5:40.

This evening, as I was washing dishes, I looked out the kitchen window. Perched on my neighbour’s upper roof was a raccoon. The raccoon was preening itself, liking its forelimbs and washing the fur around its face. Every few moments, it would approach the edge of the roof, and look down onto the lower roof below. Seemingly doubtful of its chances, it retreated slowly and cautiously, further up the roof. The raccoon’s fur was pale grey, and its tail was long and thin, like a cat’s. Once in a while it would turn to my direction, and the dark rings around its eyes made it appear as a myopic person unaccustomed to the daylight. At one point, it began lowering itself off the side of the roof, slowly and stealthily, like an expert climber. Its hind limbs extended first, it used its fore limbs to grip the siding and a wire that snaked down. Touching down on the lower roof, it moved out of my view. Remerging again momentarily, on all fours now, the raccoon ambled along, past the tree and out of sight, as the day drifted into twilight.