Tommy: I ain't no Daniel Boone...

Tommy Tucker, WWL First News
March 09, 2017 - 11:35 pm
I get home late the other day, which means I have to let Betsy the Boxer out quickly because she's held on about as long as she could.  I open the back door and go out with her as I usually do.

We both noticed a raccoon out of the corner of our eye about half of Betsy's size furiously trying to get over the fence behind the building by climbing up the side of a shed.  At this point the raccoon falls off of the building, and Betsy runs over to engage. I might add that the raccoon fell in an area where the grass is knee high, so I can't see what the hell is going on.

I manage to get Betsy to back off, and the raccoon seizes the opportunity to make a run for it to the other side of the shed. Bad move because it's now trapped in a corner.

Unable to control the collar-less Betsy, she runs around me to face off with the raccoon. Now, at this point, I'm thinking Betsy could probably kill the raccoon; but she'll get marked up in the process. I don't want to see her hurt ; and I really don't want to pay the vet $500 to get her fixed up, not to mention dealing with the extremely annoying collar of shame for a week or two.

They say there's nothing more frightening than a cornered animal. I say there's nothing more frightening than coming home from work after deciding you really didn't have to go to the bathroom only to be blindsided by a trespassing raccoon. So with that as a backdrop, I manage to pull Betsy away so the raccoon can climb over the fence and get out of our lives forever.

The raccoon sees this as an opportunity to advance, not retreat. Go figure.

So as the raccoon's approaching Betsy and me, I realize I should arm myself. I run over to a pile of logs nearby, but I can't pick the wrong one. Too heavy and I don't clear Betsy, which means we're back to the vet scenario. Too light and I've just embarrassed myself in front of a raccoon. All the while Betsy is barking in that waaaay too loud "I'm gonna mess you up" voice, and the raccoon is making that weird series of clicks that sounds like an Aborigine with a speech defect.

I throw the weapon of choice at the raccoon. Direct hit. But the wood was too light, and it merely bounces off the raccoon. No damage inflicted but it did stop making that weird clicking noise. Now, Betsy (who has now stopped barking), the raccoon and I are all staring at each other with this embarrassingly awkward silence prompted by, I'm guessing, my less-than-manly attempt with what was really a stick, NOT a log.

Finally, the raccoon backs off and makes a break for it; and, of course, Betsy makes a last ditch attempt to get to the emergency room.  The raccoon makes it to safety, and I realize I REALLY have to go to the bathroom.

Now I know why they make caps out of those damned things.
Comments ()