Have I mentioned on the ol blog that we’re having a bit of a raccoon issue at our house?
I grew up in the middle of nowhere. Long gravel roads, lots of trees, lots of land, screens in the windows optional, just generally the middle of nowhere. And do you know that in that time we never had a single raccoon come in the house? Black snake? Perhaps. Neighbor’s dogs? Definitely. But not one raccoon.
I now have a house key and a sidewalk and it appears that we have a raccoon. Scratch that. We HAVE a raccoon. And he’s ballsy. He (she?) comes in after dark, helps himself to the cat food, does some splishing and splashing in the water bowl until he feels that he has thoroughly cleaned behind both ears and, from what I gather, is taking measurements of our kitchen to send to his interior decorator, Diana, so that the space will be just so when he moves in full time.
At first the mere sight of us would send him waddling. Then our dog Grace took over and she would chase him out and, apart from the small heart attack that I would have at 3am when Grace would suddenly bolt down the hall barking at full force, things seemed to be ok. Then there was one night that Grace was at my parent’s and the raccoon quickly realized that it was just me and him and the cat food. He looked at me with a great deal of misplaced smugness, turned his back on me and went to town on the cat food. Do you know what I did? I knocked him silly with a broom. I did, I whacked the s*it out of him, and he took the hint and headed out the door. That seemed to take care of the problem for a little while, but then Grace passed away, and the raccoon didn’t take long to wise up and start deciding which corner he wanted to set his cigar chair in again.
How is this raccoon getting in? Well, I drew you a picture:
Up until this past weekend, the raccoon was a nuisance, but not especially destructive. I would even go so far as to say that I was not overwhelmingly concerned with his occasional intrusion. Well. WELL. We spent the night with friends on Saturday night and all I can say is, if any of you got an invitation to the rodent rager that was hosted in our kitchen and didn’t post pictures to facebook because you didn’t want us to find out about it? The jig is up.
Ya’ll, the raccoon(s???) went bonkers in our kitchen. They ate taco shells, they broke wine glasses, they opened cabinet doors, they bathed their muddy little feet in the sink and then WALKED ALL OVER OUR COUNTERS, they took empty tupperware containers out and spread them around, they lounged on the stairs and snacked on gold fish crackers and discussed the underwhelming amenities of our kitchen, I’m sure. In fact, as I spent all of Sunday afternoon scalding every square inch of our kitchen, I could almost hear their little raccoon laughter hanging in the air around me. They appeared to have a better time we have had in years, and Drew and I are pretty awesome at having a good time.
But guess what, Raccoon? We’ll see who gets the last laugh.
Consider yourself warned.