In the morning, Chris found the trap unsprung and the bait right where he'd left it.
"That's weird," he said, descending the ladder. "We need to call CC-guy back."
CC-guy returned and poked around a bit. "Well, I don’t see anything," he reported. "She must be hiding. By the way, the trap you have up there is a squirrel trap. It’s way too small for a raccoon."
"Are you kidding me?" I looked accusingly at my Great White Hunter who once again refused to meet my eyes.
"Nope. And another thing, since the mother raccoon has no way to escape don’t confront her in the attic. Cornered raccoons get very vicious. She’ll go right for your throat."
I gulped. "What about the new gaping hole? She can escape through that, right?"
CC-guy just smiled condescendingly then scrounged around in his truck, handing me a container of yucky-looking brown stuff. "Here’s some raccoon bait. It’s irresistible to them. Just smear it on some marshmallows and I guarantee you’ll catch her."
"Thanks," I said weakly and watched him drive off. I wondered again what exactly I’d written him that BIG check for.
Chris borrowed a large trap from our brother-in-law and purchased another one. He set them all in our tiny attic loaded with marshmallows and raccoon bait.
"Three traps?" I said.
"Just making sure I catch her," my Great White Hunter replied.
The following morning, he returned from his daily attic investigation looking grim. "Still unsprung. Plus, I left one marshmallow out in the open and it's gone.”
I grasped him by the shirt collar with both hands, yanking his face within inches of mine. You’re FEEDING her now! Are you crazy?”
He gently disentangled my fingers. “Calm down. Now, I need to go finish packing for my business trip. Let me know what happens." (Okay, he didn't actually say it like this, but that's what it felt like!)
He called me the following day for a report. "Anything happen?"
Now folks, here’s where I draw the line. I'm all for marriage being an equal partnership and everything, except when it comes to stuff like hunting coons in my attic. There was NO WAY I was going up there to investigate whether the marshmallow-munching killer raccoon was still running loose. Nor was I sending my one-and-only son up there either.
I had raccoon nightmares for two days straight. When the Great White Hunter returned, up into the attic he went.
I waited below, wringing my hands until he descended the ladder.
"Well?"
"I have a confession to make," he said.
"What?"
"I’m not exactly sure that first marshmallow was eaten."
"Huh?"
My Great White Hunter went on to explain that he’d merely tossed the first marshmallow up there and thought it had been eaten but it was now possible he’d been mistaken.
"Why do you say that?"
"Um…because I put a second marshmallow out in the open and it’s still there, hard as a rock. And all the traps are untouched."
I growled low and went for his throat, but he dodged nimbly out of my reach.
Hmph! Guess there was nobody else home after all. Apparently, the sounds we'd heard were just the mother trying to find her way back in to her babies, but to no avail.
I felt a little bad for her, but please. She had the whole outside to play in! Why did she have to come into our attic?
I trailed after my hero. "Well, can you at least close up the new hole you created so we don't get bats in the attic now?"
"Why? It's perfect timing. They’ll be all settled in to add atmosphere for Halloween.”
I growled again. But he just rolled his eyes and laughed. Then did as I requested.
Yeesh. Finally, we can get back life as it was before the invasion of the killer raccoons.
Image by: andrusdevelopment
