When I purchased a small hillside home among the pines in Crestline, a mountain community in California, one of the attractions was an unfinished basement that could be converted into a rental. I immediately contracted to have the space made into an apartment.
A final effort of the contractor was pouring a small, concrete front step for the apartment. When I went down the outside steps to inspect it the next morning, I saw that the wet concrete had preserved for perpetuity two footprints of a visiting raccoon.
When my first renter, a fellow nature lover, arrived, I pointed out the souvenir prints. He immediately dubbed the apartment "Raccoon Retreat."
I was delighted to hear the recorded message on his new telephone when I called to test his new service: "Randy and Rachel Raccoon can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message."