His eyes say "I'm soft at heart" but his teeth! They do not lie. There is gum showing. It is almost spring and he is ready to play.
Raccoons. Walking garbage bags. That is to say, there is literally a lot of junk in their trunk. HUGE beasts of the urban wilderness. Less cautionary then their stinky brother the skunk, more obvious than the common rat. Lover of banana peels, creature of the night.
Ugh.
It's strange because raccoons up north? They don't bother me. Except for that time Ciaran hit one with our car on the way to the cottage and I literally heard its neck crack into a million pieces. That kinda bothered me. Because up north you don't see a raccoon until it's too late. That is to say they are more modest in the north country. But city raccoons? They are arrogant fuckers.
Last summer we were gone for a couple of days and one got into our green garbage outside. They ate random stuff and left other gross bits around. But gross of all? They ate TISSUES. Which means they ate my snot. Now that...that's just a problem. Anyway, we had to pick up all the scattered remains of green garbage, which is kind of unpredictable, because you don't know just how bad something smells until you actually pick it up AND subsequently you don't know if you pick something up whether or not it will structurally stay together long enough for you to get it into the bag without collapsing into the fourth and final stage of decomposition.
Fucking raccoons. They're hooligans! Last night I heard a distinct noise near the back door of our apartment. I was reading and I gasped and Ciaran sat straight up (the poor man was asleep) and I thought someone was trying to break into our place. We listened. There was no sound. We went through the apartment. We saw nothing.
This morning Ciaran called me and told me the garbage cans were all askew in the back. But we're smart. We now bungee the green garbage because the little shits know how to get into the lock on the green garbage (not that it's complex or anything). But a bungee! It's brilliant. It must infuriate them. Their little claws unable to figure out the sheer simplicity of elasticity. It gives me great joy to think of their plight.
But I shouldn't get too cocky. No. For they are always watching.
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