“Mom,” said Little Bit, “I think I saw a skunk in the front yard.”
I doubted that. Skunks aren’t very common around here. But raccoons are. And possums.
She led me to the front porch and said she’d seen a face pop up out of the gap between the concrete steps and the house. “And it definitely wasn’t a cat face,” she insisted.
Later I was standing on said porch, escaping the toxic fumes produced by the self-cleaning oven, when the not-cat-face made another appearance. Pointy nose, stripy fur, dark eye rings…yep, ‘coon.
“Hello Ferdinand,” I said. (I don’t know, it just looked like a Ferdinand.)
Cute as they are, raccoons make lousy house guests. Ferdinand is not welcome to live under the porch. My ever-resourceful husband set out to remove him.
He rummaged about in the garage and pulled out the party fog machine. (What, you don’t have a party fog machine? Pity you.) He juiced it up and ran a tube from the machine into the hole under the porch. Ferdinand responded with a vicious, snarling attack upon the tube. TGeek poured smoke into the hole while I perched in the kitchen window and watched for emerging animal, but Ferd stayed put. Score one for the ‘coon.
So I called Critter Control this morning. At this time of year, the nice lady told me, a raccoon holed up under a porch is almost certainly a female with babies. We smoked babies! Heartless, and alas, ineffective.
The critter dude will come out on Friday and trap the ‘coons. In the meantime, Ferdinand and I will have to live with each other. Maybe I should charge her rent.