Masked Marauder

A marauding raccoon has been making the rounds and those rounds include our kitchen at three in the morning. She is coming through Katy and Teddy's door, meant for their personal use only. Does this masked creature recognize ownership and the many rules ownership implies? No. What this bandit, this burglar, this bad girl, recognizes is the smell of the ever-delectable purinaCatChow.

She sweeps in, finishes off whatever food bits may be left in Katy or Ted's bowls and then moves on to the large covered bin holding a super size bag of what we call Big Blue. If access has been made difficult by the large pots and pans now placed in and on top of the bin, she becomes bitter. The leavings of this bitterness include bags of ginger snaps ripped off the shelves and dragged around the kitchen. One especially dark night a bag of innocent popcorn kernels suffered serious mauling and tearing.

Several nights of jumping out of bed to chase the racoon out the door at that way-too-late-for-chasing hour changed her habits not at all. So we borrowed a trap. A have-a-heart trap that will (presumably) capture but not injure.

Presumably is the operative word in this tale. We did want to catch a raccoon. Not three possums. The last actually 'played possum'. He laid absolutely still inside the cage when I opened the door to release him. I wanted to be laying absolutely still in my bed so I left the small actor to his own devices. When morning came he was gone.

Chasing, trapping, yelling, pleading.  So far nothing is working.  I've had a couple of long days lately. Knowing the trap would be sprung around 3:00 or so in the morning I haven't baited and set it.  Now that my deadlines have been met I guess I'm ready to try again.

If I were more willing to stay up all night maybe we could talk, this raccoon and I.  I could talk her right on out the door.  Talk as in move-along, scat, hey-you-get-out. Or I could explain those elusive rules of ownership. I'm sure she'll be all ears.