Sam was walking Baby, a 10# Westie who is generally afraid of her shadow and/or yours.
Baby was getting into her excited mode, little woofs that indicate friends are coming to play. She did a little dance as 4 raccoons came out of the woods.
Bob, the12# white male cat who owns the Westie (according to him, anyway) had been hanging back, guarding the rear as he usually does. Like a streak he was beside Sam, back arched, hissing at the invading patrol. The coons hesitated, but another raccoon appeared on the far side of the road.
Four,The Bob could handle, but five was too many. Bob looked up at Sam, says "MEOUT!" and stretched out, racing toward home. A few yards down the way, The Bob stops, looks over his shoulder, and rowrs at Sam and Baby, and takes off again, stopping every few yards to hurry up the stragglers.
When his little troup was safely home, he stalked to the door and demanded to go back out.
Maybe he was going to have a talk with a group of raccoons. He is, after all, THE Bob.