The Hill Man’s Blogspot

Raccoons, Hockey Sticks, and Trash Cans

I would have never thought that I would feel threatened by some baby raccoons. However, in July, two of these creatures had made my backyard their home, and my dog, which is a very small pug named Colonel, was not accepting of our new neighbors. There was never a mother raccoon around, so my family assumed these babies were on their own. My family called a bunch of animal shelters and one lady we called told us that if we captured them and brought them to her, she would take care of the raccoons. She also laughed as she told us people called her the Raccoon Lady. I did not like the sound of this, and my dad told me that I was going to have to help him capture them. This was getting crazier by the minute.

Now that we knew what we had to do, we just had to wait for the raccoons to show up again, and until then, I would be relaxing in our pool. “I see the raccoons! Get out of the pool!” yelled my dad from the back porch. I jumped out, got a towel, and grabbed a hockey stick on impulse. It would probably not help me at all, but at least it made me feel safe. The raccoons had climbed up a tree, so my dad got a ladder and handed me a trash can. “What the hell is this for?” I asked. “You are going to catch the raccoon in the trash can when I knock it off the tree,” my dad replied, as if it that was the obvious use of a trash can.

So far, I was soaking wet with a hockey stick in one hand, a stinky trash can in the other, and I was about to catch a raccoon that could have rabies. “Don’t let the raccoon fall on your head!” my mom jokingly shouted. My dad began to shake the tree and the raccoon fell, but clung onto the branch below it. The other raccoon was on the ground, and it started to walk toward me. “It’s coming toward me!” I screamed as I held the hockey stick out. “Don’t move! You still have to catch the one in the tree!” my dad frantically yelled. He shook the tree harder and the raccoon fell into the trash can with a soft thud. I held the trash can with shaking hands as my dad scooped the other raccoon into the second trash can. “Jaclyn, you have to sit in the back of the car with the raccoons,” my dad said. “Are you kidding? This is just great!” I said angrily, as I helped carry the squealing trash cans to the car.

It was a long drive to see the Raccoon Lady, considering I had a screeching trash can on either side of me in the car. Every time my dad made a turn, the raccoons would squeal even louder and scratch at the trash can that I was holding on to. When we arrived twenty agonizing minutes later, we saw a decrepit, old house with a rickety truck on the front lawn. The house looked as if it could have been right out of a horror movie, and I was beginning to think I was in one. This was getting shadier by the minute. The Raccoon Lady came out and just reached in the trash cans and pulled out the baby raccoons like it was nothing. “You’re such a cutie!” she said to one of the raccoons as it hissed right in her face. This lady was really freaking me out. She thanked us as we got into the car and finally drove back home. Afterward, my dad could not stop laughing about how funny I looked trying to protect myself in my swimsuit holding a hockey stick. I will never hear the end of that one.

Filed by Mr. Hillman at March 24th, 2008 under Humiliations, Embarrassments and Huh?!?