How to Throw a Raccoon Out of Your House

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” The words come with a guttural, raging force.  The raccoon responds with it’s own indignant rage as I release it from the grip I have around its jaw, launching it out the open door.

An even greater rage consumes me.  Another RACCOON! It’s teeth clamped into her back paw,  it’s left front claw stretches toward her side belly, the other dug into her right haunch.  My response is nothing short of a “MOMMA BEAR” toward this vile creature that threatens the one I hold dearest in my soul.  My beloved Riley, her beautiful eyes big, brown, SCARED, confused… HOW could this happen in the safety of her bed, our home? WTF?.... her expression longs for me to save her, to rescue her once more! And so that’s what I do.The little bastard bolts at my unintelligible bellow, running straight at me and past the door I had strategically left open for it’s escape.  Instead it scrambles up the counter top, knocking knives and clutter, bouncing off the window screen before careening my direction once again.Now the dilemma! It has positioned itself between the couch and wall.  Yellow, evil eyes stare back at me from the other end, mere feet away. My plan is flawed.  I grab a broom with the hopes to defend myself from an errant attack if it chooses the wrong course.And it does!  It runs right past the open door AGAIN, up the countertop (you get the picture).  This time it detours into my bedroom up over the bed, clearing the end table, leaving a trail of rancid PISS before seconding itself back in its chosen hiding spot.

To be clear, this really happened!  IT WAS NOT A BAD DREAM! 

I awake at 2:00 am.  Riley is yelping, seemingly in a bad dream.  Curled on her pillow, her cry more frantic. I kneel down, reaching to comfort her.  There is a flash of understanding albeit brief that it is not her I am touching.  Then the pain, confusion and pure instinct in knowing I had to get this thing out of my house and off of my thumb.  Momma raccoon (I have since determined) had latched onto my thumb. 

So! I do the only reasonable thing!! Well, most might not agree!

I clench my hand under its jaw, gripping as hard as possible.  Arm outstretched, two steps toward the door, I fling it growling and hissing into the back yard.  Only to find, yet another latched onto Riley, immobilized by the grip it has on her back leg.It is only after the second raccoon has vacated (well, there’s more to tell) that I feel the throbbing in my thumb.  The room looks like a murder scene, blood spattered over the floor, up the wall…. Most of it mine. My thumb is a mess, two large chunks of flesh, vicariously torn in the encounter. 

Finally, the DRAMA is over!

Is that what you’re thinking?  Well not quite, it would soon become apparent.  It’s 4:00 am.  I’m sitting in my chair, somewhat dazed, aware of the  missed blood spatters of a frantic attempt to clean earlier.  My spidey senses tingle. Riley follows the scent of the earlier chase.  I rise quickly, with ever so slight awareness and disbelief.

The little SHIT is still in my home, hidden once again by its chosen refuge.

 This time, it chooses the wise course…  out the open door, FINALLY! I step into the darkness (“weapon” in hand) scouring the barely lit recesses of my yard, retreating only when I hear its growl and scamper.Now, it’s finally over!  Unless we count the excruciating pain of the rabies shot(s) yet to be endured.  Riley emerges relatively unscathed…. this time. Those stories are for another day.Note to self….  Don’t leave your (ground level) patio door open in raccoon country!Tell me, what crazy thing happened to you?  I'd love to hear about it.Share here if you like