Dad couldn’t stop smiling as he demonstrated the trap’s operation. The inner workings were so efficient that it barely made a noise, just a faint click and a soft flourish like an umbrella being opened. Dad had designed the trap to accommodate a raccoon the size of a sheepdog, but he still worried that it might maim the creature if it wasn’t calibrated just right. Eventually he went into the garage to take from the deep freeze one of the birthday cakes he’d purchased for bait, placing it on my skateboard and rolling it to the middle of the platform. If the cake survived the trap he said we could celebrate by having it for dessert that night.