Raccoon in the attic.

No, that's not some clever metaphor. We actually have a raccoon in our attic. The officials have been notified and we hope to have it removed some time this week. Let me fill you in on some details of raccoons because I have now over-educated myself on the subject.

First off, they are a member of the bear family. This explains their super-hero like strength ( it tore off an attic vent to move in ) and my innate fear of encountering one alone in a dark and cramped space. Ya know, like an attic. Second, they mate any time between January and March with a gestation period of 60 days. This adds up to one of two things, either mama bear decided my attic looked like a good place to spit out some baby bears or mama bear told papa bear and he freaked out and split making his forwarding address my attic. Third, did I mention they are just mini-me bears? ... and it may be protecting babies??

So how does one solve this problem? Frankly, braver men than I are going to do it. But I will write about it in it's full glory. Well, whatever glory I can see from my hiding spot, around the corner, behind the trash cans.
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