I woke up at five to a horribly inhuman snarling, growling, and whimpering practically right outside my window. Of course it was the neighbors.
My neighbors--the ones I loathe, and did I mention that Mom says the guy is on the Tennessee sex offender list?*--have a Havahart trap on their garbage cans to trap raccoons. I guess it's easier to trap a raccoon and relocate/kill it than it is to, oh, BUY A BUNGEE CORD to tie down the can lids.
I peeked out the bedroom window and had a good view of the trap, containing one big fat raccoon. Three big fat raccoons were trying to get their buddy out, to no avail. Finally they gave up, and when they had gone the trapped raccoon fell silent. So I tried to get back to sleep before my alarm went off at six.
And of course I couldn't sleep for worrying about the raccoon, and at 5:30 I got up, pulled on a jacket and my shoes, and went outside.
The raccoon was all huddled up in the rain. Now, I've opened a Havahart trap before--with a skunk in it, no less--but that was about 15 years ago. I couldn't remember how it worked now. But hey, I'm a human being, the supreme tool-user, with opposable thumbs and everything.
So after ten minutes I went back in and turned on the internet. Which FAILED ME. I finally found a list of manuals on the Havahart site and guessed at which trap my neighbors had (a really old, crappy one, apparently), and found out how to open it. With a really bad diagram. Apparently one wrenches up on the door and props it open with a stick. Not included.
It's November. All the sticks I could find broke when I looked at them. And it was raining harder, and my accursed neighbors seem to be awake now. So I failed to save the raccoon.
But I swear to gawd or dawg or whoever, I'm going to break their damn trap. I'm a clever human being, after all. And I know where I can get a set of boltcutters.
*all the guys I went to high school have "issues." It's probably why I'm still single.