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“It’s just… do you know what they call us?” the raccoon said, a tear trickling down his cheek. Oscar couldn’t believe it. He didn’t sound anything like the scary raccoon he’d been earlier. But it was definitely the same one. “Do you? They call us… they call us…”

“You’re in a safe space,” Butterbean said, patting him on the shoulder.

“TRASH PANDAS!” The raccoon sniffled. “They call us trash pandas!”

“Ooooohhhhhhhh,” the crowd of raccoons murmured.

“And how does that make you feel?” Butterbean asked.

“Terrible! It feels horrible,” the big raccoon said. “Why would they say that?”

Loud sniffles came from the raccoons in the circle. It was obviously an emotional moment for all of them. Oscar edged closer to Walt. He’d never called a raccoon a trash panda in his life, but he still felt guilty somehow.

“You know you’re not a trash panda,” Butterbean said quietly. “Pandas are bears. I’ve seen them on the Television.”

“Right?” the raccoon said. “It’s not even ACCURATE. It’s so wrong!”

Oscar cleared his throat.“Um, Butterbean?”

“Oscar?” Butterbean said softly. “Could this wait until the session is over?”

“Um, sure, no problem,” Oscar said awkwardly. “We’ll be, um… over there?” He waved vaguely in the direction of the door. He didn’t think he had it in him to be more specific.

“Good, that’s fine. The hour is almost up,” Butterbean said calmly. She turned back to the raccoon. “Now. Tell me about your mother.”

Walt and Oscar sat on the floor next to the door, with Chad dangling over their heads, staring blankly into the room. It was a lot to take in.

“How many therapy shows does Butterbean watch?” Walt finally asked.

Oscar shook his head. Obviously way more than he’d realized.

“I hear she’s very affordable,” a small raccoon in a sequined tube top said in a low voice, sidling up to Oscar. “Although it’s hard to get an appointment.”

“You don’t say,” Oscar said. The whole thing was like a dream. He wished he could pinch himself to see if he was awake, but wings weren’t great for pinching.

“That’s it. My tentacles are getting crispy,” Chad said, dropping to the floor. “If you need me, I’ll be in the utility sink.” He scooted across the floor, around a pair of raccoons playing with croquet mallets, and climbed up into the sink. “Step aside, bub,” he said to a raccoon who was carefully washing a shiny harmonica.

Butterbean’s therapy session seemed to be ending. The big raccoon patted her on the back a few times and gave her an awkward hug. Then he turned and looked over at Oscar. They locked eyes, and after a second the big raccoon raised his hand in a half salute. Oscar blinked. This could not be happening.

Butterbean trotted over.“Hey, guys, did you see? I did a whole therapy! I knew I’d be great at it. Reginald said I really helped him work through some things.”

“Reginald?” Walt stared at Butterbean like she’d never seen her before.

“You know, the big raccoon over there. He says he knows you, Oscar,” Butterbean said. She looked over her shoulder at the big raccoon. “REGINALD! Come say hi to my friends!” She turned back to Oscar. “Is he the one who threatened you?”

“Urk,” Oscar said as Reginald the big raccoon lumbered over and stood looming over them.

“Reginald, you know Oscar, and this is Walt,” Butterbean said. “I think you have something to say to Oscar?”

Reginald grimaced.“Yeah. Um. About that. I said some stuff earlier, and… I shouldn’t have.” He punched Oscar lightly on the shoulder. (Not as lightly as Oscar would’ve liked, though. He almost knocked him over.) “No hard feelings?”

“Um, no, none at all,” Oscar said, fluffing his feathers, doing his best to look calm and collected. “We both said things we shouldn’t have.” Although, to be fair, Oscar didn’t recall grabbing anyone by the foot.

“I told Reginald about Madison and the ‘situation,’ ” Butterbean said, making clumsy air quotes.

“And about that dog’s bangs,” Reginald said, his eyebrows shooting up. “That’s a tough break.”

“And?” Walt said suspiciously. Sure, he seemed friendly now, but Walt still wasn’t sure she trusted this Reginald character.

Reginald folded his arms.“And I’m in. We’ll do whatever you need. What can we do to help?”

Marco opened his eyes. He had the distinct feeling that someone was staring at him. It had messed up his dream. (Which was a particularly good one too, involving a mountain of popcorn.)

He sat up and immediately let out a scream.

“WHA? What is it?” Polo said, jerking upright into a sitting position. Then she stifled a scream too.

The white cat had her face pressed up against the side of the rat’s aquarium and was silently watching them.

“Don’t DO that!” Polo squealed, getting up and stomping over to the water bottle to climb up.

“I wondered how long it would take you,” the white cat said, smirking. “You have NO IDEA how long I was here.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Good joke,” Marco said shakily. An enormous cat face was not the way he liked to wake up in the morning. Although, looking around, he wasn’t sure it was morning. It still looked like night to him.