Reason #623,504 I Miss Roger

A few nights ago when I was pulling into my garage, I saw a visitor.

He was brown and black.

Long tail.

Wearing a mask.

I did not think much of it.  

I live near a swampy/marshy part of Orlando. 

I see deer, armadillos, bunnies, squirrels, and black racers on a pretty regular basis.

And now I can add a lovely raccoon to my list.

Only he is not lovely.

He is annoying.

He has decided that I have nice bugs in my yard.

He has decided that he will dig holes to get the nice bugs in my yard.

Some of the holes are not big.

Just scratching the surface. No big deal.

However, tonight as I was taking a break from studying some biology for final exams, I saw a huge hole in my backyard. 

I started to panic.

Oh. My. God.

I freaked out.

At first I was not sure what kind of burrowing animal it was.

Was it dangerous?  Was it still in the hole?  

I walked over to the side of the yard were I had seen some litter and noticed two more holes.

One coming into the yard from under the fence and another near Roger's peace lilly (Figures it would go after Roger's plant.)

Fucking great.

This is not what I need.

I do not need a stupid burrowing animal to be digging around in my house and yard.

And why did my cats not go nuts when they saw some strange animal outside.  

This is not what I signed up for.

This is not what I meant when I wanted to own a home by 30.  So I guess I was also asking for a husband before 30 when I made that goal years go.  

I never wanted to do this kind of crap alone.

I do not want to do this crap alone now.

I want my husband.

I came back inside.

Started googling.

Do raccoons burrow in the ground?

That would be a yes.

And I found a nice picture of their foot prints.

Great...

I called our local government information line (If I do not have a husband at least I have them).

Nothing they can do.

The animal is in its "natural" habitat.  

"What can I do with the holes?"

"Just cover them back up."  

Okay.

I put on sneakers.

I do not need to get bit or rabies for that matter. 

I grabbed a shovel.

The really big one.

I figured I would hit it over the head if I had to.

I looked for footprints.  

Sure enough.  Matches the picture online.  

Fuck.

I started putting the dirt back into the hole from as far away as possible.

Patting it down as I went to see if anything tried to dig out.  

Nothing.

Whew.  

Holes covered.

Crisis averted (at least for now).

Now, I have nothing against a bug eating animal.  

I have nothing against living in harmony with animals.  I am pretty pro animals.  I realize living where I do means I will have to deal with animals from time to time.

And I am all for something that eats the bugs so they do not come in the house.  

But geez, the holes are huge.  

That raccoon was huge.

A year ago, if this had happened, Roger would have laughed at me as I screamed when I approached the hole.

He would have laughed at me as I freaked out. 

But he would have taken care of it.

He would have been the man of the house.

I do not want to be the man of the house.

I. Do. Not. Want. To!!!!

Now I am a pretty independent person.

I rarely depend on anyone.  I actually hate to and I am working on that but...

But this is the type of stuff I miss having my husband for.  

This is the type of stuff that is a "boy job" as I would tell Roger.

He was suppose to do the "boy jobs" and I was suppose to do the "girl jobs."

Dealing with wild animals is definitely a "boy job."

Being a widow sucks.