There had been scratching in the drop ceiling of the sun porch. I think rat! I tell my darling husband, who says that he hears nothing.
I leave and go to knitting, forgetting the rat, the sun porch and the husband. And have a loverly time. I love my LYS, it is Knitwits in Cresent Springs, KY and we have such fun there, but that is another tale.
I go home to find the husband, telling me we have a problem. I think to myself, no. Rats not my problem, they are why the man is here. And the pack of mean dogs we have are barking their silly heads off. ( this pack is 2 small poodles, and one overweight shih tzu.)
We have a racoon in the ceiling. Nooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Racoons are 9 foot 8 inches tall with claws and teeth like a shark, and carry every disease known to man.
And he tells me his plan to get the raccoon out of the ceiling that includes me holding a sheet for it to fall in, while he breaks the tile.
So being the big girl I am, I cry and call my best friend B. And tell her the tale of the raccoon and how I am being made into a raccoon hunter. She laughs and I find a pencil and erase her from my friend list.
And go to put on my raccoon hunting outfit. A wool hat, Bella's mittens, a long sleeve sweater, jeans and snow boots. It is 102 degrees in the sun room. I do not care. The dogs are in a frenzy!! They are also hiding in the living room, where they have decided it is safe to bark and not have to really do a dog thing like chase or harm whatever it is in the ceiling. They are smart and they are chicken.
He come in armed with a laundry basket, that has replaced the sheet and a Swiffer Sweeper ( with the swivel head, remember this part) And tells me that I am to break the tile and he will catch the raccoon and take it outside.
So we start, he speaks raccoon to the monster, it come to where he is and I pull with all my might all the time screaming like a little girl, and the head of the sweeper rotates, just like it said it would.
So he tells me to go find something else to break the tiles and I do, and pull and out pops the raccoon. It is a baby, fits in the palm of your hand, but in my mind it is still the 9 foot 8 inch monster who will eat us.
So he takes it outside. And 15 minutes later goes out to see if it is okay. It is not, so he moves it and again in 15 minutes he goes out and find it in the middle of the street. Crying.
So he puts it in a box and gives it food and tuna.
The next day my ex-friend B comes over and puts her hand in the box where this monster lives and PICKS IT UP! She talks to it, and cuddles it. And she took it home to care for it till it can be released. His name is AJ.