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So, my hubby and I were sitting out on the deck late one night this weekend, enjoying the cool, relaxed September evening and celebrating it with a fire in the chimnea, when a dark figure made an arc around our yard. Is that a cat? my hubsband asked. I squinted as it made its way through the shadows to my right. I’m not sure, I replied. Momentarily it disappeared from sight, reappearing seconds later at the foot of the steps just below me. Its masked features peered up at me in the firelight, and my husband and I groaned in unison.
Raccoon number five.
Anyone have a firearm we could borrow?
>Have you tried sitting up a simple box trap with some fruit in it? If you could catch them, you could relocate them far, far away.
>Any luck with the raccoons?Thank you, Lorie, for your kind words re: my grief. They tell you it will get easier each year; the reality is that it just gets more final. Sometimes that might seem easier, but usually its just more sad.
>No luck. But haven’t seen him again, either…that’s lucky!I think that is well-put: it just gets more and more final. Grief never goes away, although God does, at times, give us the grace to live in it with greater ease. So sorry for your loss–I can’t even begin to imagine.