RiverBender Blog: I Have Three New Pets
Well, sort of. I don’t pet them or feed them or snuggle with them. In fact, the only time I really see them is when I peek into the dumpster on my way to and from work. That’s right, I have raccoons, and I love them.
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My raccoon adoption story started a couple of weeks ago, when I was on my way out the door and decided to take the trash out. I threw the garbage into the dumpster and heard skittering. Curious. I’m nosey, if you recall, so I walked right up to the dumpster and stuck my head inside.
Three baby raccoons!
I cooed. They were adorable.
I have a lot of experience with cats, but minimal experience with raccoons. I figured, how different can they be? I made the pspspspsps noise, and one very social raccoon stuck his head out of the garbage pile to stare at me. We immediately bonded. My new bestie.
But there was a new concern. The dumpster is surrounded by a fence, which I assumed the raccoons climbed to get inside. But there wasn’t a lot of garbage in the dumpster that they could use as a stepping stone to get out. Were they stuck in there?
I had to get to work, so I snapped a picture of the raccoons and posted it on my personal social media page, asking my community for advice on what to do. And the community responded. The overwhelming answer was, “Get a board so they can climb out.”
I could do that. All through the day, I plotted where I would get my 2x4 and dreamed about how happy the raccoons would be to be rescued. I would be a hero. They would be okay. It was great.
And then I got home, and tragedy had struck. The trash company had EMPTIED THE DUMPSTER.
Had the raccoons been tossed into the garbage truck? Did they survive? I was distraught. All weekend, I mourned the loss of my raccoons.
But! The story was not over yet. Come Monday, I once again heard chittering and skittering coming from the dumpster. I poked my head inside. And there they were! Three raccoons, snuggled up together in the garbage, staring at me like, “There you are. Where’s your trash? We’re hungry.”
I was overjoyed. I texted my friends and let them know the raccoons had survived after all, and everyone was equally relieved.
And then I came home and they had EMPTIED THE DUMPSTER AGAIN.
But the raccoons came back. So in conclusion, they must be getting inside somehow, and they aren’t stuck, and my 2x4 is not needed. But I still warned them this morning before I left.
“Good morning! Remember, they’re taking away the trash today. Make sure you get out! Be safe! Have a good day!”
I don’t know that the raccoons understand pleasantries, but they must have some survival instincts, because they seem to be doing okay. Over the past two weeks, these raccoons have taken me through all five stages of grief. These pets are a lot more trouble than they’re worth, but they’re also sweethearts. I will continue to coo at them and make the pspspspsps noise and feed them my garbage.
People say raccoons are a nuisance. I say they just haven’t embraced raccoons’ whimsy. My apartment doesn’t allow pets, but I’ve found a loophole. These pets came with the apartment, and I love them very much.
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