Seattle to honor its newest hero, a misshapen raccoon named Jimothy

This weekend, the people of Seattle will gather to honor one of the Pacific Northwest’s most celebrated folk heroes.

Read more Brush fire breaks out at former San Francisco Navy shipyard

Not the city’s democratic socialist mayor. Not a SuperSonics legend with news of the team coming back. Not even one of those guys that toss fish down at Pike Place Market.

They’re gathering to champion a local raccoon turned internet superstar — and his name is Jimothy.

Jimothy’s rise from neighborhood curiosity to viral phenomenon has been remarkably fast. In just a matter of weeks, the raccoon has inspired fan art, memes, tattoos, millions of social media views and, somehow, an official city proclamation. He’s captured the heart of a nation, with fans declaring him a king, a saint and an inspiration to anyone who’s ever felt a little different. 

Who is Jimothy?

Before he became an internet sensation, Jimothy was just another wild raccoon living in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood. But he was already known by locals for his unusually compact appearance, with a short, rounded body and distinctive (and almost unnerving) gait.

He first shot to online fame after Ballard resident Kiana Hall spotted the oddly shaped animal beneath a parked car, filmed him and posted the video to Instagram. She named him “Jimothy” on a whim because, as she later explained, “He just looked like a Jimothy.” The clip racked up millions of views, and neighbors soon began sharing their own sightings of Seattle’s newest cultural icon. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kiana (@c1vrgr1)

Wildlife experts and veterinarians who have weighed in say Jimothy may have short-spine syndrome, an extremely rare congenital condition that causes the spine to be significantly shorter than normal. The condition has been documented in dogs and cats and appears to be exceptionally uncommon in raccoons. Despite his unusual build, Jimothy appears healthy and has been regularly spotted climbing fences, exploring neighborhoods and, of course, rummaging through Seattle’s trash cans. 

Since his tale has gone viral, Seattle residents have come out of the woodwork to share their own Jimothy sightings. Who wouldn’t want to say they knew Jimothy before he got famous?

As Jimothy lore began to grow online, Ballard resident Ben Trammell was able to tell the world a bit more about his origin story, posting videos of baby Jimothy alongside his mother and siblings. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Ben Trammell (@bwtrammell)

According to Ben, the family nested in cedar trees next door and regularly crossed through his backyard on their nightly outings.

“He was so small and clumsy but his mother and siblings were always so patient and caring, keeping him from falling and sometimes just carrying him,” Trammell wrote on Instagram, also referring to the raccoon as “young James.” 

After the trees were removed, neighbors feared Jimothy had disappeared for good. His eventual reappearance just a few blocks away was met with relief — and, months later, internet stardom. 

Read more Calif. hiker missing for days after planned Duck Lakes backcountry trip

The People’s Raccoon

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why Jimothy struck such a chord. Maybe it was his unmistakable silhouette giving off blurry Bigfoot energy. Maybe it was the way he confidently pranced through Seattle despite looking unlike any raccoon most people had ever seen. Or maybe, in a corner of the internet often dominated by bad news, people were simply ready to rally behind a weird little dude.

The internet quickly did what it does best: created lore. Fans crowned Jimothy a king, debated whether this was officially “Short Jimothy Summer” or “Hot Racc Summer,” and argued that if Jimothy exists, surely somewhere out there lurks his impossibly long cousin, Jimathon. Others simply settled on calling him “Himothy.” 

The obsession spread far beyond meme accounts. Artists began painting Jimothy. Local businesses embraced him. The Washington Department of Transportation got Jimothy to sponsor some safety reminders. The Seattle Mariners put him up on the jumbotron. He earned a Dungeons & Dragons stat block and is being added into countless video games through modding.

Even Olympic National Park weighed in with an uncharacteristically existential post, asking “can fame and wildness ever coexist? Are parasocial relationships and anthropomorphizing two sides of the same coin?” 

Whether Jimothy is an adorable cryptid or the patron saint of whimsy is an ongoing debate, but everyone can’t help but root for the masked, misshapen bandit.

“Jimothy is an example to all of us that you don’t have to be perfect to be loved. In fact, it’s what makes us different that makes us sensational,” Alexis Mercedes Rinck, the Seattle City Council member behind this weekend’s official proclamation and event to honor Jimothy, told SFGATE in an email. “I think it’s fair to say that Jimothy’s impact will be a lasting part of Seattle’s culture.”

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Olympic National Park (@olympic_nps)

Art inspired by the raccoon king has been plastered across the internet — most of it celebrating Jimothy for being himself. People aren’t laughing at Jimothy. They’re celebrating with him. Thousands saw something admirable in a tiny raccoon who looked different from every other raccoon yet wandered through life with complete confidence. In an internet that often rewards outrage, Jimothy became something much rarer: a reason for strangers to collectively smile.

“I think times have been hard for everyone, so I’m really happy to have posted something online that reaches so many people and makes them so happy,” Hall told the Seattle Times. “I just hope [Jimothy] continues to live his life freely and I hope he can be healthy.”