Late-Night Visitor: The Saga Unfolds

I'm sure you're all dying to know what's going on with my evil garage creature; you've got nothing else going on, right?  Well, my friends, today is your lucky day!  Feel like you just won the lottery, huh?  I understand.  Before I tell you how the saga unfolded, I think I should give a short recap.

Recap:  Something in my garage.  Coming in at night.  Poop.  Rat poison.  Raccoon party?  Cat!

Image c/o flickr.com.

So, when we last left off, I was convinced that my new BFF was a cat - a sneaky, dirty cat with well-regulated bowels.  I also thought that said feline was coming into the garage in the middle of the night, through the side door, and tormenting me.  Well, I had a plan to take care of this: I was going to STOP this evil kitty from entering the garage.  How was I going to do that?  Well, I was going to put something really heavy in front of the door, duh.  So, that's what I did.  I found some paving stones (the kind that make a circle around a tree), and I barricaded the door.  Ha, cat!  I've defeated you at last! 

Not so much.  I awoke the next morning to more destruction in my garage.  More poop, more pee, more messes, AND the jerk had moved the pavers away from the door.  What the hell!??!  Clearly, I was dealing with some kind of freakish cat-mutant.  Upon entering my car, however, I discovered yet another clue: footprints.  Alas, my guest was not a cat.  Back to my original idea of raccoon or possum.  Whatever it was, it was strong, and I was getting a little nervous for my safety (note: I just added that last part for dramatic effect).

Image c/o doc.govt.nz

After discussing the issue, the idea was brought to my attention that maybe this evil critter was trapped in my garage.  It wasn't coming IN at night, it was trying to get OUT.  The more I thought about, the more it made sense.  Frat-Boy-Raccoon was hiding in my garage during the day and trying to escape at night.  It was being so destructive because it couldn't figure out how to get the heck out and onto that night's kegger.  Alright.  Now at least I had an idea of the issue I was facing; I just needed a plan.  I somehow had to get this alcohol-deprive marsupial out of my garage.

My first plan revolved around the fact that I have a dog.  I have a dog.  Dogs chase animals.  My dog will chase the animal out of the garage.  Well, that plan was shot as soon as I took one look at my dog.  If you've met my beagle (Arnie), then this requires no explanation.  But, if you don't, let me tell you a little bit about Arnie:  He's a wuss.  He's afraid to cross the threshold from the kitchen to the living room, he's afraid of his own water bowl, and he's nuts.  Really, he's crazy.  He's the reason they invented Doggy Prozac.  If they had doggy mental institutions, they wouldn't even need to do an evaluation to admit him.  He's that nuts.  Well, scratch that idea.  Damn dog.

Arnie

On to Plan B: lure the creature out of the garage by putting some dog food outside of the garage and leaving the garage door cracked.  Great idea, but it had some potential downfalls.  1.  What if I lured it out and it went right back in?  2.  What if I lured the entire partying-raccoon fraternity into the garage?  3.  What if it liked the dog food so much that it kept coming back or decided to move in permanently?  (I mean, I do buy the good dog food.  It's "all-natural" which means it's probably made the same as all other dog food but it costs $5 more a bag.)  While my plan had some drawbacks, I had to give it a try; I was so over picking up disgusting feces every morning while Gavin yelled from the kitchen, "Momma, did the raccoon poop in our garage again?  Can I see the poop?"  Ugh.  No, you may not. 

Image c/o encyclopedia.com

So, that night, I cracked the garage door (I couldn't leave it all the way open.  Someone might see that as an invitation to raid my garage or kill me.  I was mostly worried about the latter).  I strategically placed some "all-natural" dog food outside of the garage door, and I went to bed.  At that point, I was feeling pretty clever.  The next morning, I woke with a mixture of excitement and fear; excitement that I had possibly outsmarted this clever creature and fear that I would only find more shit.  I opened the garage door to find . . .  SUCCESS!  Nothing was amiss, there was no poop, nothing was stolen, and the dog food was gone.  Hooray!

Try not to be too impressed.  Don't feel bad about yourself because you might not have been as clever as I was in coming up with a strategy-filled-creature-ridding plan.  It's okay.  Maybe one day you'll have a chance to come up with a really great plan of your own.  Until then, I will bask in my glory.