Oi, what a week it’s been. What was supposed to be a nice, relaxing long weekend ended up being four anxious days full of freak outs and lots of worrying. On the Thursday night, S and I heard some noises out back. We figured it was either raccoons running around the trees in the back lot, or mice and squirrels. We didn’t pay any mind to it.

On Friday morning, the day I had taken off of work, I was awoken to a panicked S waking me up. “Liz! We have a problem!” she said, nearly out of breath, her eyes wide. Barely awake, I asked her what was wrong. “There’s something in the addition and it sounds like it’s making its way into the basement!”

“I don’t think they could do that, that’s brick they’d have to scratch through,” I responded, still more asleep than I was awake.

“We need to call someone to get over here and get whatever is under there the fuck out!” S said as she left the bedroom. I lay in bed a few minutes longer, thinking about this latest joy of home ownership. I didn’t have to guess too hard at what was under the addition; there are a large amount of raccoons in the neighbourhood. I thought about it and realized how they had probably gained entry to the space. Back in June, we had the new central air conditioner installed. The unit was placed out back which required running the tubing and wiring under the addition from the house to the unit. There’s a crawl space with a door/lid that’s fastened onto it. The a/c installers removed it and then put it back on lopsided to accommodate the tubing so it wasn’t on flush. I guess the raccoons found enough to grab on and pull away to make their way in.

I got up and made my way downstairs where S continued her tale. “I knocked on the floor and it went nuts down there,” she said. “We need to call the pest company and get them to get rid of it ASAP!”

“I think I know how it got in,” I said as I put on some shoes and made my way outside. One look told me I was right, the lid to the crawl space was ripped right off of its place leaving an open welcoming any critters strolling nearby. I went in and explained to S how they got in. We agreed that someone would need to come out and get rid of it as there’s electrical and plumbing stuff in the addition that we did not want fucked around with by some rodent.

I called the 1-800 number of the pest control company we use and explained the situation; the dispatcher said she’d put my request forward. By nine o’clock, I figured I was better calling the regular hours office number. The woman I spoke to said that they wouldn’t be able to come out until Tuesday since they lay traps and they need to come the next day to remove them. Of course, they don’t work on weekends, let alone long weekends. Anxiety setting in, I e-mailed a few folks who I thought may have some suggestions.

Not wanting to break my promise to my mom, I left for our appointment to get our nails done, all the while hoping that the raccoon didn’t make its way into the house. I kept having visions of coming home to a damage-riddled house. What’s worse, I worried about what would happen to the gal pal and the kitty. I couldn’t stand the thought of them being left alone and getting attacked. I took comfort in the knowledge that raccoons are nocturnal and would probably be asleep all day long.

The experience at the nail salon was an interesting one. Both my mom and I had male employees working on our feet. The gentlemen who worked on mine looked to be in his late thirties whereas the guy who worked on my mom’s feet didn’t look like he was out of his teens yet. He was either new or inexperienced because he kept forgetting to do things – like scrap the skin on my mom’s feet.

The place we went to was your typical nail salon – all of the employees were Asian. It felt like that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is sure that the manicurist is saying rude things about her but she can’t prove it until she brings George’s dad with her. I didn’t think they were saying rude things but my mom just stared at one another and shrugged.

Following the appointment at the nail salon, I hopped on the streetcar and stopped in at the hospital to visit my uncle. He was very surprised to see me and I could tell he was genuinely happy that I stopped by. It turns out Peggy Sue was there too visiting her dad but she was out having lunch with a friend. About forty minutes after I arrived, she came up to her dad’s room. I was blown away when I saw her; her skin’s all freckled and weathered looking. She used to have the fairest skin and now it looks like she lives in a tanning bed, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The medication she’s on is what’s turned her skin what it has.

We chatted for a bit and then her sister, who I’ll call Big G, showed up. Big G is the total and complete opposite of Peggy Sue. Where Peggy is laid back and fun, Big G is uptight and obnoxious. Big G has this permanent sneer, her upper lip curled up like everything she encounters displeases her.

Within minutes of arriving, she was on me like white on rice, “So Elizabeth, what have you been up to? Where are you working? Are you dating anyone?” Peggy Sue already knew that I was dating someone but she didn’t know that it was a she and not a he. Big G jumped on that line of questioning, “What’s his background? What’s he like?” I quickly stammered out an answer and hoped that I remembered to say “He” and not “She.”

“How’s the baby?” I asked Big G, trying to steer the conversation away from myself.

“She’s 7,” Big G replied.

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t realize it’d been that long since I’d seen or cared enough to know about Big G’s family.

Big G picked up on her interrogation and began asking about my place of residence. I lied and told her I still lived in my bachelor apartment. “Oh, that’s quite the rainbow-coloured neighbourhood,” she snickered. I was so tempted to say something like, “You know Big G, it’s nice to see that in all the time that’s passed, you’re still the same. That is, fat and ugly.” Instead, I stammered some excuse about it being safe and a lot of new condos going up.

Tired of the Great Inquisition of ’09, I said good-bye and walked out with Peggy Sue. While she waited for her bus, she told me about her husband leaving her and asked me about my guy. She kept insisting on my going to her place for a girls’ weekend. As much as I’d like to I’m not sure I should. I’m not 100% sure that I could trust her not to tell anyone about my being gay. I don’t think I could spend two days making up lies and excuses about a fictional boyfriend. I’m sure I’d stumble at some point and get caught. I would love to get close to Peggy Sue again (I idolized her when I was growing up), I’m just not sure I’m ready yet.

After the hospital visit, I stopped in at a Home Hardware and bought a new green bin and a strap to keep the raccoons out of it. I made my way home with my purchases, worrying about what I’d encounter upon. Thankfully, all was intact and quiet.

I called a few wildlife companies, none of whom would be able to come out until Tuesday morning. A very heavy feeling was beginning to settle in my stomach as I worried about the damage a raccoon could do in four days and nights.

Everything remained quiet till about sunset, when we heard the scratching noise under the floor in the addition again. “That’s the same noise as this morning!” S said. It did indeed sound like it’d be making its way up through the floor at any minute.

I had a fitful sleep that night; I kept having visions of raccoons running through the house. We were up early on the Saturday since we had to take the gal pal to the vet for a follow-up appointment. On our way out, we heard the same scratching noise under the floor; our friend was coming home for a sleep.

I went back online and found another wildlife company to call. I explained that I knew how the raccoon got in and that I just needed him removed so that the crawl space lid could be put back in place and he suggested that I throw some moth balls into the space as raccoons don’t like the smell. If that didn’t work at kicking them out, he suggested I give him a call back the next day. With the noise settling down, we collected our things and went outside.

We loaded up some patio furniture we were taking to K and then were off. I hadn’t taken the gal pal for a walk because we needed to make sure she had a full bladder for her appointment. When we got to the doctor’s, she was taken into the exam room. A few minutes later, the vet came out and told us that her bladder was empty and she’d have to stay a few hours. We felt so bad leaving her there but what could we do? She must have peed while S and I were putting the furniture in the truck.

We decided we’d go for breakfast to kill some time. I called K to see if she was awake and it turned out I had woke her up. I quickly apologized and hung up on her. She called back a few minutes later and I let her know that S and I were going for breakfast and she was welcome to join us. She decided she would. While sitting in the restaurant, S got in touch with P and she agreed to join us for brunch too. Not long after, the four of us were gabbing over coffee and eggs.

Our bellies full, we got back in the car and made our way to K’s place to drop off the patio furniture. The highway was a mess due to people heading up north for the long weekend so we ended up taking a side road to K’s place. She had decided to take the highway and sure enough, we got to her place before she did. While we waited for her, we noticed some kids playing in the house next to K’s. “Look at that kid, he’s not even 5 and already he’s a pasty redneck!” S said while pointing out a young child who was rather obnoxious.

K joined us a few minutes later and we helped her unload the furniture onto her lawn. A call from the vet let us know that the gal pal was okay and was ready to be picked up. We made our way back to get the gal pal but ran some errands first. When we finally got to the pup she looked a bit traumatized but was back to herself once we were in the car. We stopped in at P’s place for a few minutes and the gal pal got to play with her brother.

S and I came home, with a plan for dealing with our new guest. Since S can’t stand the smell of moth balls, we bought some bleach and sponges. The idea being that we would soak the sponges in bleach and throw them under the addition in the hopes that the smell would drive the raccoon out. With the raccoon out, we’d put the lid back on.

As the time approached, we heard the same scratching noise. S had bought a super soaker so I grabbed that and went out hoping to wet the damn raccoon and chase him away. What I saw made my stomach sink; instead of coming out from the crawl space, the raccoon was coming out from a hole near the back of the addition – a hole that had not previously been there. Fuck, I thought. Things got worse as a second raccoon joined the first. By that point, S had joined me out back and we began soaking the raccoons with the water gun. They obviously didn’t like it as they ran away from us.

S returned inside to get more water and was alarmed to hear more noise coming from under the floor. “I think they’re coming back,” I said as I leaned over our fence and caught since of a raccoon in between the space between our house and our neighbours’.

“I don’t think that’s going back, I think it’s another leaving,” S said.

Sure enough, it was another raccoon leaving. It was soon joined by another. In total, four raccoons left through the hole. To say I needed a stiff drink would be an understatement. With the raccoons out, I ventured down to the crawl space entrance and whipped some bleach-soaked sponges under the addition. S stood behind me with the super soaker the entire time in case anything came out at me. Thankfully, nothing did.

S and I decided to get up early the next morning and use the water gun to encourage the raccoons to stay out. We hoped that the bleach smell would be enough, but we thought the extra effort couldn’t hurt.

It was another night of poor sleep as I dreamt of raccoons again. At 5:30, the alarm went off and we were up and out of bed. I grabbed the flash light to get a better look at the space between the two houses and S grabbed the water gun.

We stood out there for about an hour and saw one raccoon. It climbed up the fence directly in front of us and then crawled along towards us. S kept shooting him with the super soaker but it didn’t deter him. “C’mon, let’s go inside,” I suggested.

“Wait,” S said as she continued shooting water at the raccoon. “Ok now!” she yelled as the raccoon got closer to us. In a panic, I couldn’t get the door handle to turn fast enough and S kept yelling, “Go! Hurry up!” Finally, I managed to get the door open and we stumbled inside. We waited to see if we could hear the raccoon scratch its way in, but we didn’t hear a thing. We went back outside but didn’t see it anywhere. We wondered if that one had been one of the four from the previous night, but since we hadn’t heard him come in, we thought perhaps he wasn’t. Plus, the ones we had sprayed the night before didn’t like the water and that one obviously didn’t have a problem with it.

When we didn’t see any other raccoons try to make their way in, we decided to call it quits. We hoped that our plan worked, but for all we knew, they had come back and settled in before we got up. A few hours later, S and I were regretting having gotten up so early. We decided to stretch out the futon and veg out in front of the TV. Within minutes of lying down, S was out. I was too worked up worrying about the raccoons to fall back asleep. Instead, I watched some shows on the Mystery channel while S and the gal pal slept.

The afternoon was spent with S trying to nap a headache away and me dealing with the green bin situation. The old bin was full of rotting crap (and maggots) and the new bin needed to have the strap attached. I took care of setting up the new one and cleaning up the old one. I for one was counting down the days for garbage pickup to resume.

After getting up from her nap, S and I got ready for our evening out; we were going to our realtor Diana’s place for dinner. It was great to see Diana and her husband again. We had a great BBQ, got to meet their kids and see their place. It was a nice distraction from worrying about the furry guests at home.

By the time we got home, the raccoons had probably left for their night out so S and I decided to get up early the next day again to see if our bleached sponges was keeping them away. Since I hadn’t been sleeping well and was up at 5:30 that morning, I fell (and stayed) asleep pretty quickly. When the alarm went off, we were up and at it again.

Unlike the previous morning, we did have one raccoon that was trying to make its way into the addition. We sprayed it with water and it would go away but then inch its way towards the hole in the back. “Put bleach in the gun,” I suggested to S. By that point, I was done being nice. I wanted to be done with the raccoons; I wanted them away from my house. S, ever the softy, made eye contact with the raccoon and thought it was cute.

“Look at that face,” she said sympathetically.

“They’re not cute when they’re damaging your house,” I muttered back. Defeated, we came inside and left the raccoon alone.

As we had the day before, we settled downstairs and treated ourselves to a marathon of the British show, Ashes to Ashes. I’m told it’s like the show Life on Mars, only better. It took me a few episodes to clue in that the lead actress on the show was also in Tipping the Velvet. I don’t know what it is about British TV shows; they’re so smart and well-written and acted. We watched the new Law & Order: UK series and wished that the writers on that show could make their way across the pond. Especially for the SVU series, bleck.

Monday night saw us head back outside to see how many raccoons left. While out there, I decided to take a walk around and I noticed two additional holes in the side of the addition. My fear of them scratching their way into the house was back at the forefront of my mind. It was another long night as I worried about how much damage the raccoons were causing. While I worried about the damage, S was wracked with guilt over having sprayed the raccoon with water that morning.

I’m an animal lover and would never harm an animal, but in this situation, I would do what was necessary to keep my property and my pets safe.

Tuesday, the next day, I would be calling the Wildlife companies back and see about getting a solution put in place.

To be Continued…

Related posts:

1. ‘Coon Hunting – Part II