We've got to do something about these blasted raccoons: call animal control or SOMETHING. Our back porch is getting to be known as "Dewar's Diner" to every raccoon in a two mile radius.
Last night Andy was causing a commotion at the back door, and I started out to pick up the cat food (I hide it in the grill, which is covered in raccoon paw prints) but Andy darted past me. Big Daddy Rocky Raccoon was on the porch, and Andy tore out after him, biting Rocky on the butt before he could escape.
Jimmy said between my screaming and Andy's barking, we almost gave him a heart attack, and Andy spent the rest of the evening spitting raccoon fur out of his mouth.
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| Hail the conquering hero |
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| Battleground |
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| An escape hatch torn in the screen |
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| Screen frayed by claws opening the door |
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