Last night, two raccoons were fighting on my back fence like an old married couple. I’ve never heard anything like it. They were barking and squawking and making quite a ruckus until The Assistant started barking at them and hitting the sliding glass door. Then they ran along the fence line with their lopping gate and climbed up the backside of our large fir tree.
I waited for thirty minutes then I let my dogs out one last time before bedtime. The Assistant raced to the tree and started enthusiastically jumping up and down like she had treed a coon. I slipped on my crocks and raced out back and not spotting my flat head shovel, I grabbed a black plastic empty pot on my way to the tree. I smacked The Assistant on her bottom to get her out of the way and peered around the backside of the tree and found myself eye to eye with an irritated raccoon.
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The Assistant raced to the other side of the tree and jumped up and down. Without thinking, I lightly smacked the raccoon’s tail and backside with the pot and said, “Go on!” And continued to hit the tree with the pot as the raccoon scurried up the tree away from the crazy lady in her pajamas, wielding a plant pot at midnight. Then I chased The Assistant inside and then I stepped in something squishy and my dog Maya gave me her giggly grin and I knew that I had just stepped in her fresh pile of shit.