There they were, Belle and the Twins, Tommy and Sally.  Tommy and Sally have grown much larger, but are still young.  Probably teens, judging from Tommy’s belligerent attitude.  He takes after Gus, his Dad.  Gus snapped at Belle one evening while they were on a date, having dinner on our deck.  Tommy snappped at Sally when the two of them were both eating at the sunflower seen platter last night.

While they were not ready to leave, and responding slowly to my attempt at shooing them off the deck, they did finally leave.  If Gus had been there, I would have stayed inside.

We thought the Raccoon Relocation program had taken them far enough that they wouldn’t find their way back.  So much for that idea.  For now, I am back to bringing in the feeders at night.  That wreaks havoc with the birds early breakfast call.

I hesitated to mention their return in Mary Ann’s hearing, since their presence outside is likely to trigger more hallucinations of them in bed with her.  She explained to a friend that they can flatten themselves out and crawl under the door.  I did mention them when having dinner this evening with our Son, Micah, and Granddaughter, Chloe.  Before doing so, I thought it through and concluded that Mary Ann’s sense of security would be lessened if I tried to mislead her, or whisper behind her back to others rather than just being open about it. There will be some sort of visible activity brought about by their presence anyway — as in starting again bringing feeders in at night and putting them out in the morning.  I am not sure about the possibility of trying to trap them and relocate them again.  They may all be too smart for the trap now.

I have tried to keep everything above board and as clear to Mary Ann as possible.  I use the word, dementia, in front of her rather than only using it secretly.  I would rather deal with the consequences of the truth and how it feels to both of us, whether we happen to like that truth or not, than to get wound into some sort of complex fabrication, trying to hide the truth, worrying about the chance of it slipping out.

The time has slipped away and sleep is anxious to have its way with me.  Enough for now.

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