Monday morning, 8:30 am. The phone rang as I was getting ready to leave the house, and it was my neighbor. She had just been sitting down to a relaxing pre-work game of Free Cell when she got startled by a loud thump at her bedroom windowsill, made by a large and unwell-looking raccoon. I go over.
And there it was, resting. Or dying? Banging on the window frame didn’t produce much of a reaction, but it did turn around briefly and I studied its face for some sign of its condition. Given what I know about animals this was like me trying to be helpful by checking under the hood of your car or double checking your tax returns. Looks fine to me!
According to this book, raccoons will readily fight and fiercely bite, and are often rabies carriers. And after a few months of battling the same possum who likes to use her trash can as a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, my neighbor was fed up with the volume of wildlife traffic on our block. The exterminators were called.
Unfortunately, the story fizzles from this point. I know, it seemed to be going somewhere. Sorry! The exterminators who came seemed to have about three hours of experience between them and managed to let our slow moving friend escape. We had both lost all interest by the time they were leaving for the store to buy a can of cat food to bait the live trap.
Update: no more sightings in the last two days, and the trap remains empty. Maybe this guy was just sleeping off a binge after all.