Oscar's back!!!!

Whointhehell is Oscar you ask?…. Well… Oscar is a raccoon I “did battle with” a few years back when I worked at the “Soop-er 8” in my part time 2nd job.. Oscar hid in the trash can… Attacked (ok, approached) me a time or two… I wavered back and forth between laughing my ass off, and worrying I’d get scratched and mebbe get rabies.. Oscar and I were equally hardheaded.

One night I drove from my 8 hr job to my 6 hr part time job at Soo-per 8, and they’d plowed Oscar’s home… a football sized treed greenery area, into a pile maybe 20 by 20. Progress. We’ve GOT to have that 12th bank in this town. Fuck Oscar, we’re talking the gateway entrance to our city.

Fast forward to Sunday, this year. My house is 25 years old or so. The siding ain’t quite what it usedta be. There are cracks, crevices. (Yes Teresa, I’m rationalizing for sitting on my duff and not fixing what needed to be fixed. So I confess, profess, regress, and admit - everything hereafter coulda been avoided had I done proper/timely maintenance…

The knee bone’s connected to the leg bone…Roof going bad. Leaked. Uh oh. Bought tar. Patched that. In meantime, since roof was leaking, ceiling had yellow spots, then cracks, then pieces decided to come visit the floor (and my shoulder as I sat writing a GD blog.)

K…The roof is repaired… Kinda… There’s still a small leak WAY UP top that my ladder won’t get me to.. And onea these days I’m gonna have to pull car in front yard… tie rope to bumper.. Wing it over the toppa the house… and tie it around my size 36 inch waist. Ok, fuck you (said with love), around my 38 inch waist.

Had been out and about Sunday… Whistled my way into the house.. Said my “hello’s” to those currently living with me.. And meandered into the bedroom. Peeked up (where the sheetrock had fallen. AND THERE WAS OSCAR. Staring down at me. SONOFABITCH, G*DDA%MMUTH#RDUBBER…. Yes, not only did I have two non-paying residents, now I have the coon family as guests in my attic.

So…… I google… “Oh shit, I’ve got raccoons in my attic”:… nothing came up… so I cut out the “Oh shit” part… and I found that I ain’t alone. March thru June is “baby season” for raccoons… they will often seek better shelter to birth their young… their faces are around 3 inches.. And if there’s a 3 inch crack.. They can get their entire body thru it.”

As I read the above, in the background… well… in the ‘upper ground’ I hear this chirp chirp yip yip that sounded just like a clan of mice. Reading on “if you hear this chirp chirp yip yip that sounds just like a clan of mice, congratulations, you have a litter of raccoons.” GOT DANDRUFF, SOMEOFITITCHES!

I need sheetrock, but I ain’t gotta truck. So, I buy plastic, heavy plastic (Like that’s gonna stop Oscar) and I patch the holes… The story o’ my life, patching holes. Duct tape and baling wire.

Google told me: “Don’t try to remove these critters yourself…” (Damn, and I was all set to go rassle ‘em.)… They don’t like loud music.. Get a radio and tune it to a Rock Station.. Crank it… (I’d already done that.).. They don’t like light. Put a bright light in the attic. Again, one step ahead.. Floodlight already fixed on the little bastards… er, I mean Oscar and guests…

“If you do get rid of the adults… you’ll have a litter of babies in there left to die.. The stench won’t go away for two years.. Your house value will go down..” Yippee!

Sunday afternoon… At $2.89 a gallon, I drove 113 miles until I found a fireworks stand that was open. From Liberty, to Independence, back to Liberty, East to Excelsior, back West to Liberty.. Southeast to Riverside… I finally found, and bought, a gross of smoke bombs. That’ll get the little bastards.

PCV pipe with a small dish under… I smoked ‘em with 42 smoke balls. Chirp chirp yip yip.

Googling further “Home Depot sells these “live catch” traps - where you can set the trap and release the varmint in a safer place.” $42 and ¾’s mile of walking up down aisles, I have a nifty “live catch” trap.

Ever since the days of putting wooden square blocks in the appropriate holes, my mechanical skills have been bad, very bad. Twice I’ve changed the two-screw thingy around the light switch.. And I once was so exotic I pulled the burners on the stove and cleaned ‘em. My mechanical background in a nutshell.

Three hours, twelve minutes, and 7 pounds of sweat later, the trap is ready to go.

I wake up at midnight. Nope, no varmint. GD cranked radio awakens me at 2am.. Nope, no varmit… 4am, Credence Clearwater’s Midnight Special awakens me.. Nope, no varmint. I give in, I bathe, I go to Waffle House. (GD, no KC Star yet…. I drive to gas station.. Buy paper.. Back to Waffle House..)

Worked. One eye on the computer, the other napping. Gave in at 4pm, took an hour of vacation… I know, I’ll buy a charcoal grill.. Some stove pipe.. And try that… Again, up/down the aisles of Home Depot… over to Sutherland Lumber… and to Price Chopper for briquettes and lighter fluid… To date, Oscar and family has cost me $93..

Walking in, I read the sidea the Matchlight bag “DO NOT USE INDOORS. CARBON MONOXIDE CAN KILL.’ I shoulda known that, but scroll to not mechanical.

So… thinking positively, I’ve got a new BBQ grill… I take the stove pipe.. Rig it up into the attic.. Place it atop the BBQ grill… and feed Oscar and guests another steady diet of smoke bombs…

We are now up to date… up to the minute… Since I started this blog, I’ve lit 17 smoke bombs… and listened to six innings of the ballgame.. And looked at seven 65+something messages on singlesnet.com that are interested in me… Ya gotta love it. If ya can’t laugh, life ain’t fun.

The trap is again set out back.. I haven’t heard chirp chirp yip yip in awhile (but I ain’t convinced the smoke bombs have done their job yet…

Maynard announced “hey dad, I’m going to a friend’s house for a few days until you get ridda Oscar..”.. ‘but if you want me too.. I can stay and when they are caught in the trap, I can take out my 22 and git ridda ‘em.”

No. Even though the very first time Oscar came at me at the motel I admit to thinking “if only I had a gun now”.. .I could never do that. Yes, I’ll risk (if they get in my trap) taking them to the country, risking rabies.. To let them run free. (If by chance this blog ends here.. They’ve chewed thru the electrical lines. I hear they do that.)…

So, like sands thru the hourglass… so go the days of checkenginelight… if nothing else, it ain’t ever boring…

Tune in next week. One never knows… It could be a frothing, rabid German Shepherd has made his way thru Smokey’s tiny doggie door…. Mebbe Piranha in the 18X35 foot pond (in ground pool) out back… Who knows.

Good night Oscar. Sleep tight, you little shit… Love, Victurd.