A gorgeous juvenile raccoon has decided that my trash can yields the best in the area. Thursday nights, we all put out our garbage, recycling and green bins for pick-up early on Friday mornings. Last Friday morning, I went out at 7:45 to find my bin and its contents strewn about. It was not a pretty sight.
Last night, I moved the can away from any curb, hypothesizing that he wouldn't be able to knock it down by tilting it against the curb.
This morning? Garbage can knocked over and strewn about. But only my garbage. Not the cans belonging to the health nuts on either side of me. Not the can of the vegan neighbors across the street. Just my can.
It flashed through my mind as I was picking up the garbage this morning that I should put poison in the top garbage bag next week.
Shut up. It was only a fleeting thought.
In fact, the juvenile lives with his mother and, possibly, a sibling in our next door neighbor's attic. He's not sure when they moved in, but they're definitely there. He can hear them several times each night. He doesn't want to put back the screen they removed to access his attic unless he's sure the raccoons are out and about.
So we've formulated a plan.
Tonight, the kids and I are sleeping in the pop-up camper in the driveway. We're going to bring our cat into the trailer with us for the evening. And we're going to leave her bowl on the porch filled with the enticing food the raccoons have been known to delight in on those evenings I forget to bring the bowl in.
As soon as we hear the raccoons going for the food, I'll be hitting re-dial on my phone, alerting my neighbor. He will then put the screen back up, securing it to prevent future access.
And, if Operation: Raccoon Rid fails, he will go with his Plan B: Raccoon Eradication.
I might have fleeting thoughts about slaying the raccoons, but I'm really a live-and-let-live kind of gal. Then again, they're only getting into my garbage. They're the roommates from hell for my neighbor.