A Family Of Raccoons Took Ownership Of My House This Weekend

On Saturday, before I headed into New York City, my mother had a bizarre request (yes I still live at home for a few more months judge me whatever). Usually her requests are walk the dog, reach something high up, stop gambling. Nope, this time she asked me if I could help trap a raccoon that she believed was living in our attic. Preposterous. She’s borderline at the age where you start imaging things, so I always have to take these situations with a grain of salt.

Over the past two weeks you could occasionally hear something racing around up in the ceiling and making semi-loud banging sounds. I’ve disputed this was the wind mostly because I hate doing things and would rather lay in bed than exert effort. My mom insisted the sounds were real so she pulled out this giant animal trap. I don’t live in the woods, we live in a nice suburban central Jersey town. I have NO IDEA where she got a 5 foot animal trap. She Googled that raccoons love watermelon and put some of that on a plate inside the trap. Tip of the cap for doing some research there, I for sure wouldn’t have. I then helped her lift the cage up into the attic, which was probably the most terrifying experience of my life. Keep in mind at any given moment this rabid animal could have jumped down and attacked us. Rabies, mutant alien, something worse than a raccoon, there were a ton of mysteries at hand. Luckily he stayed quiet and didn’t show his face. Coward. I went on with my day as we closed the attic and honestly forgot about it.

Well, what did I wake up to on Sunday morning? First, off my mom sending an unsolicited “well well well” text is insane. That’s like when Feits complains when his brother texts him “did you hear about so and so?” A “well well well” text could me a million things from a mother.

Ladies and gentleman, we got the son of a bitch. Would you look at the size of that motherfucker? If that came down and attacked us we’d be dead no question in my mind.

So the next order of business would be to get rid of the raccoon right? We trapped it, let’s pay someone to do the rest. My mom called someone who does that sort of thing because there was no way in hell she was touching that cage. He brought the bastard out of the house and sat the cage near his truck.

So it appears we hired maybe the worst guy ever at his job in the history of jobs. We did the hard part. We trapped the raccoon with a brilliant scheme. All this guy needed to do was put the cage in his truck. Nope, the moment he set down the cage and looked away, it flung upon and out went the raccoon. UNBELIEVABLE. Now it could be anywhere. It might be in my room. It could be back up in the attic. The idiot mentioned the raccoon may have had babies up there too. Awesome. Thanks guy, you are worthless.

So I’m currently living at home (not in New York City where all the cool people are) in a house that is dominated by a family of raccoons. They are our masters. They decide what we do for the time being. If they want to sleep in my bed I have no say in the matter. I might have to sleep in the attic. The raccoons are out for revenge and have taken over my household. I thought I was sad enough with the start the Yankees have had, but I’m not even the dominant species in my own home anymore. As I type this, there’s a family of raccoons plotting their revenge against House Hubbs. This story does not have a happy ending. It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow and my gift might have to be murdering this raccoon and getting him out of our lives. I might have to go full Jack Bauer tonight.