while the hunter's away

The raccoons will play.



Over the years when I was younger, my step dad would leave for the annual manly hunting trip, and it would never fail...SOMETHING would happen at home that was much better handled by a man.

One year the furnace went out, the day after my step dad left for his 10 day trip.

Another year, a mouse chewed its way through the wall and was taking up residence in the stove. It would poke its head out of the burner area and taunt us.

Most years the season's biggest snowstorm would hit, RIGHT after he would leave.

It was something almost every year. Something that sure, my mom could have taken care of and did, but it would have been a lot simpler to rely on the man of the house to do it. :)

So, this being the second year of my hubby going on this trip...and LUCKILY nothing really major has happened. At least I don't remember if there was anything major last year, I am pretty sure I would have blogged it if it did.

So yesterday afternoon, the dog started going nuts by the front door. Something he rarely does...so the kids and I look out of the front window to see a raccoon, wondering around our front yard in the middle of the day.

That's strange, I commented.

As we watched, I could tell instantly, something wasn't right with this animal.

Rabies, I thought. As a closet over reactor, I mused how the animal was waiting for us to come out so that it could attack. Or it wanted the dog for lunch. I contemplated letting the dog out, but thought Hubby wouldn't be too happy to return to his dog being dead. (I hope you all know I am kidding..besides then that would be TWO animals that I would have to worry about disposal of)

I paced the floor, wondering, what the hell I was suppose to do. As we watched the animal for a long time, I just knew the damn thing was going to die...on my driveway...and I wouldn't be able to get out in the morning without running the damn thing over. Or it would die in my yard and what the hell was I going to do with it THEN?

This, I thought, is the job of a GUY. Not me. I don't know what the heck to do.

I looked up the local Animal Control, called, got their voicemail, left a message and went back to my worrisome 'why me' cry.

We watched and watched, it was like a car wreck. We couldn't stop watching. The darn thing kept wandering around. It got up on its hind legs and fell over, it climbed up the hill and slide back down, it went over the tree and fell to its side again. It started shaking, badly.

This is it, I thought. It is going to die. How am I suppose to eat dinner while this thing is taking its last breaths?

Buggy was writing in her journal about the raccoon, how cute it was, how if she had a raccoon she would name it Rosalina, if it was a girl of course.

Finally it got dark out. We didn't have to watch the poor thing any longer. Though it sure freaked me out not being able to see where the beast was anymore.

It probably has found the garbage cans, I thought, it is going to try to get in there and die. As I am wheeling the garbage to the street it is going to jump out and attack me. GREAT. I will be lying in the ground from a rampant animal attack while the kids are in the house alone, unaware. They will find me. (Aren't I a bit ridiculous?)

I had already started making a list of emergency contacts for Buggy to call in such an emergency.

As I went to sleep that night, I thought of the critter. Secretly hoping it would do its whole death thing in the neighbor's yard so I didn't have to deal with it, hoping that if it did choose my yard to take its last breath that the local fox would come eat him for an early Thanksgiving dinner. I drifted off to sleep, thank goodness NOT dreaming about the darn thing all night.

As we were leaving for school this morning, I made sure we were all securely in the van, doors locked (ya never know) before I opened the garage door.

Slowly I backed out, hoping that there wouldn't be any big bump in our way.

There wasn't.

I scanned the yard and breathed a sigh of relief. No raccoon.

Must be in the garbage cans as I feared. I think I will not put out the garbage this week. We can handle waiting another week for pick up...and by then Hubby will be home to take them out himself. :)