One day in August, my sweet Lucy, the Golden Retriever, was having trouble settling down for the night. She was restless and finally jumped off my bed where she normally sleeps, appearing to want to go outside.
We had recently added a 12-week-old puppy to the family who was sleeping downstairs in his portable crate. The puppy -- named Faro (Italian for lighthouse) -- is a flat-coated retriever and when he heard Lucy and I come down the stairs to go out, he started to whimper to go out as well.
Still sleepy and not paying much attention, I opened the front door to let them out. They both went down the steps and then turned to the right to look for a good pee spot. I’m not sure why, but I happened to look at the front gate of the chain link fence and sitting on top of it was a big fat racoon. He was facing the lighthouse and stared at me then quickly looked down to watch the dogs trot by. Fortunately, neither dog caught his scent nor looked up to see him.
My blood ran cold as I feared what the raccoon might do if it pounced on one of the dogs. I was scared for little Faro, who was barely the size of the raccoon, and I was also afraid for Lucy whom I thought might really try to take him out if he jumped on her.
I quickly, but quietly, retreated into the lighthouse to get the largest broom I had. I tiptoed out the door and down the steps until I was just below where the raccoon was sitting. I held that broom handle tight, squared the bristles flat, assumed my best two-handed tennis stroke, and swatted that racoon as hard as I could right in the face. He tumbled backwards, fell hard on the top metal step, and flopped onto the ground. I looked to see if he was there or had run away, but it was too dark to tell.
Fortunately, the dogs were oblivious and came back inside when I called. We all went back in as I flopped on the couch to recover from the ordeal.
Crisis averted. Broom 1, Raccoon 0.
(Image NOT authentic, created by Jean Wolfe, but strikingly similar)
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