But, this particular morning, Bailey was barking non-stop and would not quiet down even after my stern admonishment. Thus, I knew something was amiss.
I put on my boots (not the Lady Bug boots, mind you) and tramped out to the kennel. Again, right away I noticed something else was not quite correct, for Bailey has never failed to exit his dog house upon my approach - this time he remained in his dog house barking all the while.
Entering his kennel, I was a bit on guard. Bailey stayed in his house while I circled to inspect the area.
There, at the corner of Bailey's dog house, in the faint light of the early morning, I saw a ringed tail, the unmistakable markings of a raccoon. Now, I thought this unusual, a raccoon in Bailey's kennel area and wandering freely so near the dog house unchallenged by a rather large dog. And putting two and two together, I realized that I was the not-so-proud owner of a cowardly hound dog.
Well, anyway, when I got close to the raccoon, it retreated and scampered up the walnut tree. (Bailey has his own tree within the confines of his kennel, even though he has not yet learned what service a tree is to a dog.)
OK, so here we were with a raccoon up a tree in the dark with a cowardly dog fearing to exit his own house to even sneak a peak. I finally coaxed Bailey out of his kennel and encouraged him to follow me down to the gate to get the morning paper.
After I retrieved the paper for Bailey (he’s still in training), I wandered back down to his kennel and observed the raccoon still in the walnut tree.
Probably confused because my morning routine had been disrupted and I had not yet had my first and second cups of coffee, I then decided that the raccoon must be immediately evicted from the walnut tree. And the only thing that came to my mind as to how this should be accomplished was to throw things at the raccoon – I figured (erroneously) that by hitting him with an object he would politely climb down the tree and depart the area.
My original missiles of choice were apples, but realized early on that the deer had eaten all the apples last month. So, I grabbed the handiest thing that wasn't fastened down, namely, the broom from the back porch. I sauntered back to the kennel, and, taking careful aim (such as it was at 5:30 a.m.) I launched the broom at the raccoon, completely missing the animal, and succeeded in lodging the broom between two forked branches about 14 feet above the ground.
This feat could never have been accomplished if it had been a deliberate intent. For a moment, I was quite proud of myself.
I decided not to throw any more items at the raccoon, not because I was afraid of lodging more items in the tree (that was inevitable), but because a light bulb illuminated in my little pea brain and I realized that the raccoon would get down all by himself and would wander off all on his own.
Brilliant.
I also realized that I didn't really have to get the broom down right away, and I didn't really have to tell Pam about this either. I could get the broom down after I got home from work and as busy as Pam is she probably wouldn't even notice the broom was missing from the back porch.
And I was right, she didn't notice the broom missing from the back porch. Instead, after the sun came up, she noticed right away that there was “something different” about the walnut tree. She told me later she wanted a picture of it as evidence of my "endearing little quirks" (not her actual words, and not even close to her meaning, but you kind of get the idea).
We are now back to normal. The broom is out of the tree and returned to the back porch. Bailey has forgotten the raccoon and is again feeling secure within his personal dog kennel. And the raccoon is presumably consulting with other species as to the best way to pilfer dog food while avoiding flying brooms within a gated kennel occupied by a cowardly dog.
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