Fishing, your dog, cold beer, country music, and edibles go together like cocaine and waffles.
Few things are more relaxing and peaceful, resulting in an outdoor therapy session much needed on a perfect night. That was my plan recently here at local spot in Colorado – what could go wrong? The wife and baby were out of town for the weekend and I had my moment to let nature speak to me as edibles ran through my system like salmon in a river.
Things started simple enough. A couple Cold Snacks. A couple edibles. My best friend Maverick. My fishing gear. And my AirPods (big mistake).
Here we go with the timeline.
I arrived at the hidden pond, and to my surprise, nobody else was there fishing on this beautiful night. I got set up, cracked a beer, and popped the edibles. How many, I’m not so sure. Knowing I wouldn’t be around people likely resulted in my subconscious taking that extra gummy. Being around people on edibles is very hit or miss – sometimes it’s a lot of fun filled with laughs, sometimes you think they are trying to kidnap you.
The goal here was to relax and hear every leaf of every tree moving with the wind. Catch some fish. Listen to some Zach Bryan and 90s country. Have the bestest boy next to me. Life was too perfect.
Here we are, feeling good (I’ve got the Joe Diffie cranked up here, oblivious to my surroundings as my body begins to digest the gummies).
At least I was feeling good. Maverick here is on to our stalker.
30 minutes or so have now passed. Edibles are doing their job.
However, Mav is locked onto something in the water. Hoping it’s a fish, my glazed over eyes then see what appears to be a bear swim out of the water. Staring at my computer 16 hours a day, I know eyesight is getting shakier at times. I get a closer look, and realize a raccoon the size of a Honda is on our tail. From about 40 yards away, this thing looked to be 50 pounds, but I reminded myself the edibles were doing gymnastics in my brain at this point.
Fearing the raccoon is on its way to give us rabies and attempt to murder us, we continue walking. Unfortunately, we got caught in some brush and felt trapped (“felt” being the key word here because we definitely weren’t trapped). My dog easily climbed the muddy hill to get back onto a trail, but I gracefully slipped, at this point functioning as paranoid as could be. I’m now covered in mud, looking like I just ran through a field in Texas to escape Leatherface.
** I didn’t even take that many mg I kept telling myself **
We turn the corner to get to a little dock near the water. We hear and see nothing. Until from the shadows…
WE ARE GETTING CHASED. At this point my head feels as if it’s floating next to Pluto.
I grab my knife in case sh*t goes off, but instead, the raccoon hid behind a garbage can until we moved again. Luckily, Maverick remained locked in and the barks scared off the giant stalking critter.
By now, what seems like 12 hours have passed. It was time to leave, go on a nice walk, and take in the sunset. The raccoon was gone. We were safe from our stalker. We get back onto the trail, and this is what we walk into…
Look at this human-acting raccoon standing 4 feet tall, daring us, toying with us, mocking us.
Kind of cute, kind of terrifying.
We escaped our stalker, and it was time for a snack.
We earned it.