Homeward Bound (we hope), raccoon-style

Nothing's cuter than a fuzzy baby animal.

Except, of course, when it's raccoons burrowing into the air ducts just above your bedroom ceiling.

For the last month, my roommate Jill and I have seen a raccoon the size of an adult Collie stalking the back yard at night.

And about two weeks ago, Jill went outside, only to discover that one raccoon was actually three: the mother had two kits she'd either just delivered or had been hiding – until they fell off the roof of the patio covering and landed just in front of the sliding glass door to the back yard.

The men of Elkwood Street, fascinated with anything manly, trooped over with gloves, crates and brooms to capture the poor, whimpering things :

They caught two, put them in a massive plastic crate and fed them apricots and dog food. The whole street flocked to them during the Father's Day barbecue next door.

But then, we discovered there was another baby hidden in the space between the rafters and the roofing of Jill's house.

Three raccoons was actually four.

They released the first two raccoons, hoping the mother would come back for all of her kits and leave. Animal Control calls Jill's house their "native environment" and said were we to capture all of them, they would only release them back to the same neighborhood.

Monday, the third baby somehow crawled down the chimney into the ventilation duct, which ends only a yard above Jill's gas stove.

The men rescued that one, crated the poor things up and drove them into the wilderness, where they were unceremoniously dumped by a pine tree.

Jill said as the truck rumbled off back to the highway, she could see the little raccoons racing along the road behind the car, chasing the back tires as if begging to be taken back again.

It's almost sad.

Epilogue: I would be heartbroken that the baby raccoons are no longer with us, and that they very possibly died in the wilderness where the neighbor men abandoned them.

But on the other hand, there's no longer any scratching on the patio covering just outside my bedroom door, the air ducts don't smell like raccoon urine and the house dog, Scoop, can go outside without fear of being mauled by a ferocious mother raccoon.

So call me heartless, but I'm only minimally upset.