The Raccoon War
Part 1
I have always considered myself very tolerant of animals. I don’t necessarily enjoy their company or their long drawn out stories but I leave them alone and they generally reciprocate. It’s an unspoken agreement we have which has served us both well for many years.

There is one animal that I simply don’t trust it and that is the raccoon. I’d like to have a better reason for my mistrust of this animal something along the line of ‘A coon once kilt my pappy’ but really I just think they are icky. They have little black monkey hands with the dexterity to open garbage cans, peel a grape or detonate a bomb. Nash, a woman who loves raccoons, made the point that they are highly intelligent creatures. I agree with her but their intelligence is part of the problem. With their prehensile little fingers getting into all manner of mischief coupled with high intelligence keeps me up at night. What would a very smart animal with fingers that actually work and the ability to get into you house do to while you sleep? Rearrange the furniture? Alphabetize the CD collection. Choose a lovely sea foam paint sample for your living room? I think not. Raccoons are sinister little crack heads waiting to sell your DVD collection and, if they could, have you turn tricks for them on the corner. Still think raccoons are cute? Imagine one of them screaming in your face “Where my peanuts at, biatch!” Not so cute anymore. I had ignored the fact that this bad element was living in the loft of my shed.