Owning my own business had always been my dream. No investors, no big money behind me — just years of saving, long hours, and pure stubbornness. At last, I opened a little grocery store in our town.
My employees weren’t just workers. After everything we’d been through — power outages, slow winters, demanding customers — they felt like family. I trusted them with my whole heart.
Then, out of nowhere, things started to vanish.
At first, it was just a bunch of bananas missing every day. Then apples. Then pears. And the strange part? Whoever it was always picked the ripest, best-looking fruit. I thought maybe it was an inventory mistake. Maybe someone miscounted. But the disappearances kept happening, and the numbers didn’t lie.
I asked my staff, but everyone swore up and down they hadn’t taken anything. They were so convincing, I started doubting myself. Was I imagining it?
Finally, I decided to find out for sure. One night, after closing, I set up a hidden camera by the back door near the dumpster. I told no one.
The next morning, I checked the footage. And I nearly dropped my phone.
I’d been ready to catch one of my employees sneaking fruit. But instead… there it was.
A raccoon. A real, live raccoon, waddling right through the slightly open back door like it owned the place. The little “masked bandit” paused, sniffed the air, then headed straight for the produce crates.
It grabbed a banana, peeled it halfway, tossed it aside. Then it found the grapes, sat right there on the floor, and started popping them into its mouth one by one. After that, it tore open a container of strawberries and ate like it was at a picnic.
Whenever footsteps passed nearby, the raccoon froze, ducked behind a box, and waited. The second the coast was clear, it went right back to feasting.
On that one video, it ate:
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two bananas,
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a whole handful of grapes,
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half a container of strawberries,
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and three pears — its favorite.
I replayed the footage again and again. At first I was stunned. Then I couldn’t stop laughing. This little thief had been pulling off midnight raids almost every night, and we never noticed.
The next morning, I came in early and waited by the back door. Sure enough, just after sunrise, the raccoon appeared. It looked right at me with those shiny eyes, as if it already knew me.
I didn’t chase it. I didn’t yell. I just held up a banana and set it gently by the door. The raccoon sniffed it, grabbed it, and waddled off.
Later that day, I called Animal Control. They came, set up a humane trap, and a few days later, our little visitor was safely taken to a wildlife sanctuary outside town.
Now the fruit is safe, my store is back to normal, and every once in a while, when I see the empty space near the dumpster, I can’t help but smile. For a short time, I had the most unusual “customer” in town — and part of me will always wonder if Rusty the raccoon remembers me too.