Looney 'Coons
Last evening my husband went outside to chat with the neighbor, and he came home carrying - inexplicably - a shotgun and a steak.
"I'm just manly," he shrugged by way of an explanation.
When Istopped laughing thought about it, I realized what the gun was for. And I went all blah inside.
You see, last weekend we had a pretty decent storm. It blew down some big branches in our yard and flooded our creek. When Curtis went out to survey the aftermath, he realized that we had some messed-up shingles on the roof, which we assumed was from the bad weather.
But when the insurance adjuster came to look at it yesterday morning (before which I cleaned my house and made coffee and put on a bra just in case and he didn't even come in, ugh) he had a different diagnosis: raccoons.
Apparently we've got one trying to get into our attic to nest, and it's tearing through the roof to get there.
Curtis is a rare kind of dude who can adapt to any situation. He would fit right in at an upscale social event or important business meeting ... but this is also a man who was raised in a rural-Missouri community that's smaller than some high-school graduating classes. He can catch a fish with his bare hands, y'all. And I guess when it comes to dealing with the raccoon, he's going back to his country roots, where shooting stuff is always a viable answer.
Welcome to Redneckville, population The Templeton Family.
I oppose his method. But that's mostly because I tend to personify animals, or anthropomorphize them or whichever term means "to give human characteristics to non-human things." (I could look it up but you get the idea.) I glaze over the roof thing, and the piles of raccoon crap on the deck, and instead picture a motherly raccoon, like, tucking her little raccoon babies into a fluffy bed of leaves and chirping, "Mommy's going to find us a wonderful place to live, my darlings! Kisses!" and then blam!, she's coon-skin cap material.
And I hate that.
But, you know, the roof. As in, we can't afford to let a raccoon ravage our shit.
So Curtis is determined to put an end to it in what he's deemed the most efficient (and least expensive) way. And as much as it bugs me ... *in my best Kanye West voice* ... I'ma let him finish.
Besides, raccoons are nocturnal. So considering Curtis would have to be awoken by its presence, get out of bed, put his contacts in, load the gun, and sneak up on the thing ... I'd say it's got a pretty good chance anyway.
I mean, you remember how we were with the burglar.
"I'm just manly," he shrugged by way of an explanation.
When I
You see, last weekend we had a pretty decent storm. It blew down some big branches in our yard and flooded our creek. When Curtis went out to survey the aftermath, he realized that we had some messed-up shingles on the roof, which we assumed was from the bad weather.
But when the insurance adjuster came to look at it yesterday morning (before which I cleaned my house and made coffee and put on a bra just in case and he didn't even come in, ugh) he had a different diagnosis: raccoons.
Apparently we've got one trying to get into our attic to nest, and it's tearing through the roof to get there.
Curtis is a rare kind of dude who can adapt to any situation. He would fit right in at an upscale social event or important business meeting ... but this is also a man who was raised in a rural-Missouri community that's smaller than some high-school graduating classes. He can catch a fish with his bare hands, y'all. And I guess when it comes to dealing with the raccoon, he's going back to his country roots, where shooting stuff is always a viable answer.
Welcome to Redneckville, population The Templeton Family.
I oppose his method. But that's mostly because I tend to personify animals, or anthropomorphize them or whichever term means "to give human characteristics to non-human things." (I could look it up but you get the idea.) I glaze over the roof thing, and the piles of raccoon crap on the deck, and instead picture a motherly raccoon, like, tucking her little raccoon babies into a fluffy bed of leaves and chirping, "Mommy's going to find us a wonderful place to live, my darlings! Kisses!" and then blam!, she's coon-skin cap material.
"I look especially rugged in my faux-coonskin hat from furhatworld.com. It'd be even better with a shotgun and a steak."
And I hate that.
But, you know, the roof. As in, we can't afford to let a raccoon ravage our shit.
So Curtis is determined to put an end to it in what he's deemed the most efficient (and least expensive) way. And as much as it bugs me ... *in my best Kanye West voice* ... I'ma let him finish.
Besides, raccoons are nocturnal. So considering Curtis would have to be awoken by its presence, get out of bed, put his contacts in, load the gun, and sneak up on the thing ... I'd say it's got a pretty good chance anyway.
I mean, you remember how we were with the burglar.
I am so with you on personifying animals. I refuse to eat venison for that very reason. But for some reason I'm totally okay with eating pigs, chickens, and cows.
ReplyDeleteI only personify cute animals.
It was a .22 rifle and a steak. I have a shotgun already but it is to loud to shoot in the city limits at 2am.....what, with the neighbors and all.
ReplyDeleteCall your city office and ask for the animal control people to come set traps. They'll catch the raccoon and let it loose in the woods somewhere. You'd be rid of the problem without the violence. ;o)(Okay, I just don't like the idea of having a gun in the house with the boys, but hey, it's a perfectly good, non-violent solution.)
ReplyDeleteI am the same way with animals. I am terrible, just can't deal with anything hurting them, even when they are making us nuts (like our own little adopted, saved pup).
ReplyDeleteI've killed several raccoons in our large, urban New Orleans backyard with a Mossberg shotgun and haven't regretted it for a moment. They have long razor claws, wicked teeth and were tearing apart my wife's chickens and took out our neighbor's kitten in the mix. Theses were big animals, predators, and as it turned out flea and tick ridden and just nasty. Both animals were dispatched cleanly and with appropriate respect for property and safety of neighbors. In an urban setting large, fanged omnivores with no natural control species are a threat to health and well being of human beings and although many seem to put the sanctity of wild fauna above everything else in life I choose to protect me and mine from attack by, here it comes, "varmints".
ReplyDelete