When I was in high school my father brought a baby raccoon home from the feed store. They ad killed the mother and then found the litter. Everyone told Dad the 'coon would grow wild and injure us kids but he determined to raise it like one of our cats. That is what we did. Little Charlie was trained to use the litter box, he went in and out of the house unsupervised, slaept on the back of the couch, and went into town with us riding on our choulders. He never did grow very big. I think he was the runt of the litter.

Eventually he did start to get less inclined to be civilized. We started to take him for long walks in the woods. We figured he might find a female and settle down. Simetimes he would disappear during these walks. We would figure he was off and about on a romantic chase and go home. To find him waiting on the doorstep.

Eventually he wound up losing an argument with a truck down on the road and all was over but he was a great pet.

Oh, and about half way through our association with Charlie we found out from the vet that we should have called him Charlotte.