Ordinarily, when one hears their husband exclaim after opening the backdoor to your house and exclaims,
"Oh No, We've been attacked!"
a normal person would be startled and imagine the worst.
In our house, those words mean, THE GREEDY RAVENOUS NEIGHBORHOOD RACOON HAS STRUCK YOUR GARBAGE BINS
As it turns out even though I firmly closed the door to the back porch annex where we store our brooms, mops, trash bags and trash can, somehow that sneaky masked bandit managed to unlach the door and attack our garbage can....
He's cleaned off chicken bones, scraped out peaches cans. I feel like I'm a character in that Pixar cartoon, "Over the Hedge"
TriniHubby goes, "You can't just shut the door, you have to LOCK IT!"
Who ever heard of having to lock out a racoon. I guess they do have human like hands and a thumb? I guess?
I don't know why I was surprised that darn oversized rodent finds his way into our large green trash bin that store's the week's garbage intended for the bi-weekly trash trucks.
Just last weekend I was telling TriniHubby that I wanted to camp out in the backyard with the boys in early fall and his reply was:
HMPH!
WITH THAT CRAZY GREEDY ASS RACCOON RUNNING LOOSE? GOOD LUCK!
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