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Oct. 31st, 2014 03:51 pmSo, here's a thing that happened last night. I feed the ferals when I get up in the morning or, more lately, the boy does because when I'm sick he usually gets home before I can manage to get out of bed. And at least one, Little Bit, comes up and does the I'm going to come in your house by the front door dance (she can sneak into the garage and utility room from a crawlspace, and often does because it's warm in there). Lately we've been having a couple of others. Then, when I get home in the evenings, I top off their food for the later night snackers and pull it back in when full dark hits, so the raccoon doesn't eat all of it. Yes, we have a raccoon. Its name is Rocket because of reasons.
If I have crunchy leftovers, like stale cheerios or accumulated graze boxes, an old packet of yogurt covered raisins, I'll put it out for Rocket because why not. And if I don't, I leave him a little bit of cat food. Usually I manage to get it before he shows up but sometimes, like last night, I pass the front door and see a bandit-faced cat food thief, rap on the door, and he runs into the hidey hole and I go pick up the feral food dish. And last night I managed to scare him so thoroughly he flipped over, completely knocked over the gen-pop water dish, and fled. So I went, left out an old graze box, picked up the cat food and put it up, went back inside. Fast forward to another hour later as the boy is getting ready to go to work, and.... the water dish is upright, set down again, in roughly the place I had left it.
Fucking raccoons, man, I am telling you.
Along those lines I did in fact determine that raccoons are legal to keep as pets. Which, it's not that I intend to adopt this one into the house or go out and buy one, but it's nice to know that if I say "my pet raccoon" while referring to Rocket I don't have to immediately backpedal and go "No, I don't mean a pet I have in the house, I mean a wild raccoon I feed stale leftovers to to keep him from eating the damn cat food."
Anyway.
I have re-re-rediscovered the joys of Write or Die, or it would be more accurate to say I have found a point where I had time during the day and I was not in fact sick, plagued, or busy trying to think of other things. It's coming in handy for getting shit done, I will say.
If I have crunchy leftovers, like stale cheerios or accumulated graze boxes, an old packet of yogurt covered raisins, I'll put it out for Rocket because why not. And if I don't, I leave him a little bit of cat food. Usually I manage to get it before he shows up but sometimes, like last night, I pass the front door and see a bandit-faced cat food thief, rap on the door, and he runs into the hidey hole and I go pick up the feral food dish. And last night I managed to scare him so thoroughly he flipped over, completely knocked over the gen-pop water dish, and fled. So I went, left out an old graze box, picked up the cat food and put it up, went back inside. Fast forward to another hour later as the boy is getting ready to go to work, and.... the water dish is upright, set down again, in roughly the place I had left it.
Fucking raccoons, man, I am telling you.
Along those lines I did in fact determine that raccoons are legal to keep as pets. Which, it's not that I intend to adopt this one into the house or go out and buy one, but it's nice to know that if I say "my pet raccoon" while referring to Rocket I don't have to immediately backpedal and go "No, I don't mean a pet I have in the house, I mean a wild raccoon I feed stale leftovers to to keep him from eating the damn cat food."
Anyway.
I have re-re-rediscovered the joys of Write or Die, or it would be more accurate to say I have found a point where I had time during the day and I was not in fact sick, plagued, or busy trying to think of other things. It's coming in handy for getting shit done, I will say.