In the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, a wild raccoon named Jimothy has been quietly going about his life for over a year, waddling through yards and squeezing under fences, before the rest of the world caught on in July 2026. Short spine syndrome gives him the round, neckless, almost puffball silhouette that stopped scrollers cold when footage of him circulated online. But to the people who had been watching him since he was a wobbly baby, the viral moment was just confirmation of what they already knew.
The neighbor who dug holes so Jimothy could pass
Ben Trammell was one of the Ballard locals who knew about Jimothy long before the rest of the internet did. What struck Trammell early on was not just the raccoon himself but the way his family treated him. Jimothy’s mother and siblings were always patient, keeping him from toppling over and sometimes simply carrying him when the terrain got too difficult. Trammell put it plainly: they had always done their best to help Jimothy rather than abandon him for being different.
That observation moved him enough to act. Squirrels and rats had already dug a series of gaps along the base of his fence, and Trammell expanded those openings so Jimothy could pass underneath rather than attempt to climb over. It was a small modification, the kind of thing that takes ten minutes, but it was built entirely around one raccoon’s specific limitations.
After that, Jimothy and his family disappeared from Trammell’s yard for a stretch. Then, this past spring, a stocky raccoon with no visible neck and no elbows came wandering down the street. The little guy had made it through the winter.
Still thriving, still round, still free
Short spine syndrome compresses the vertebrae, producing the signature bunched silhouette that makes Jimothy look less like a raccoon and more like a small, determined plush toy. The condition has not slowed his daily routine in any observable way. He roams. He forages. He moves through the neighborhood on his own schedule.
The footage that spread worldwide in July 2026 did what local word-of-mouth had been doing for a year already: it made people stop and watch him. Everyone who has encountered Jimothy, in person or on a screen, seems to land on the same description. Round, cute, and resilient.
The fence at the bottom of Trammell’s yard
The widened gaps along the base of the fence are still there, dug out by squirrels and rats and quietly expanded by one neighbor who wanted a raccoon with a compression deformity to have one less obstacle in his day.
Jimothy was spotted again this spring, unhurried, moving through the street on his own terms. The family, by all accounts, is still together.
