G uess what I saw in the garage this morning?” Scott asked. I like to think it was the ridiculously early hour at which we had this conversation that rendered me bereft of any genuinely creative guesses. I offered ‘cat’ a couple of times and ‘hobo’ once (or maybe I just wish that I had; I can’t remember exactly), then stared at Scott blankly and waited for the correct answer. A raccoon had been walking around on our pool table a few minutes before I’d returned home from my walk. Scott opened the door to the garage on some pet-related errand only to find a grown-ass raccoon making the rounds of its confines. Confronted by its human host, the raccoon jumped from the table…