Is There Really Life After Childbirth?

Rowdy Raccoon ‘Restling Ruckus ends badly!! (There will be NO pictures)

Posted on: June 25, 2009

First, I must apologize to our neighbors.  I’m sure most of them remember how I spent the second week of our arrival to the neighborhood calling to apologize for our first week.  It just keeps getting better.

This noise was even worse than the giant gerbil escapade…this time somebody was screaming.  Once Bob & I determined that it wasn’t either one of us, I ventured a peak out the door to the deck.  All I could see were legs and tails.  It was a huge ball of dog, dog, and still unidentified critter.  There was a pause in the commotion and I finally recognized raccoon parts.  Next to two big dogs, it appeared to be quite small and I inadvertently yelled, “They’re killing a baby raccoon.”  So, I take full responsibility for the fracas that followed (well almost full responsibility).

Crazy Bob (yes, he gets his nickname back) and I ran out on the deck.  I was hoping to distract the two big dogs by yelling “Treat, treat!”, a ploy that usually works, but doesn’t provide much of a distraction to this frenzied crowd.  It DID however, get Wolfey’s attention.  He is a Pomeranian, complete with short dog syndrome, that causes him to hurl himself at cars and at dogs much larger than he is, in an attempt to impress girl dogs and allpeople.   Now we have 3 dogs and a raccoon.  I did manage to get Wolfey back and to throw him back in the house.

By now the dog-dog-raccoon ball has rolled down the stairs and back behind the table and chairs into a corner.  At this point, Crazy Bob decides to intervene.  He climbs over the chairs into the middle and starts reaching for the raccoon!  I’m yelling “DO NOT PICK UP THAT RACCOON, HE WILL BITE YOU!”  Have I mentioned that Bob is naked?  I thought not.  I asked him later if he realized that he had rushed outside with nary a stitch of clothing and he admitted that he had not realized that fact until I pointed it out to him.  About this time, the raccoon rolls free of the dogs and would have escaped, if he hadn’t run into Bob’s leg.  So, he bites it.   The dogs catch up with the raccoon.  Bob hobbles indoors for…I’m not sure why he went inside, but when I followed him a few minutes later, he was sitting at the computer looking up information on rabies.

By now, the screaming is much louder…I’m pretty sure I may have been a part of it.  There is nothing that sounds so awful as a creature fighting for his life.  I make one last charge at the dogs hoping they will pause for just a second, but instead they take off into the night with their new prize.  

I admit defeat and head into the house to check on Bob.  Now I find him wearing shorts and boots and holding a flashlight and a shovel.   This is just getting weirder.  He says, “Raccoons carry rabies.”  I say, “Yes, Bob, that’s why I told you not to get bitten.”  He says, “I have to get the raccoon away from the dogs.”  And out into the wilderness he charges.

The next few minutes are filled with crashing, thrashing, and an occasional curse word.  Pretty soon Magic, the smartest dog in the bunch, returns for her treat.   I decide that I just can’t take it anymore and go inside for first aid supplies.  About that time, Bob returns from wrestling the raccoon away from Cody.  The raccoon has not survived the night’s activities.  Cody is royally ticked off that Bob stole his rightfully won prize.  Magic wants her treat and Wolfey is miffed that, once again, we won’t let him play with the big dogs.

Ah, but the night is young.  We now begin an hour’s worth of phone calls trying to find out what to do with a dead raccoon and a wounded husband.   Hospital emergency rooms refuse to give medical advice over the phone.  I didn’t want medical advice.  I wanted to know what to do with a dead raccoon.  They didn’t know (or care too much).  I finally called the emergency vet who advised us to keep the raccoon cool (not frozen) and hand him off to our vet in the morning.   The lady was very helpful and also told us to get in touch with our county animal control office.

Well, we live in Pawnee County.  We don’t even get a Pawnee County phone book.  (We only recently got DSL).  So it is morning before we can talk to anyone at the Pawnee County Health Department (there is no animal control office).  She informs us (now this is priceless), that the guy who has been calling to inspect our bakery shop is the guy we need to contact about the dead raccoon.  Is that handy or what?  We need our shop inspected.  We have a dead raccoon in the refrigerator AND the same guy handles both!  Things are looking up.

OK.  Bob delivers the ‘cool’ raccoon to our vet who shipped it off for rabies testing.  We’ll know in a week if the raccoon (or Bob) has rabies.  Cody and Magic have no visible wounds and are up to date on all shots.   Wolfey has convinced himself that he could have taken the raccoon and BOTH dogs if I hadn’t intervened.  All’s well that ends well.

Did I mention that it wasn’t a baby raccoon after all?

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2 Responses to "Rowdy Raccoon ‘Restling Ruckus ends badly!! (There will be NO pictures)"

Thanks for the chuckle. This was a hilarious read. Having spent plenty of time around dogs and racoons I can certainly picture the events in my head. I can even relat to running outside undressed in an emergency but we won’t discuss that event (it never happened, it never happened) 😉

um….. lately we kept hearing someone (something) screaming at night, sounded like a baby screaming or moaning, perhaps that’s a racoon? lol

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