It's official- the raccoons residing in my backyard have got to go.

I used to like them, I really did. When they raided my trash (then, a rare occurrence) the night of the Menu Foods recall, I was worried sick. I'd purchased a recalled product. One of my cats had eaten the food, and his kidneys were failing. What if the raccoons had gotten into the leftovers?

I spent the night outside- in the freezing rain, nonetheless- scouring every single bag, every last piece of trash, for vestiges of the tainted food. As it turned out, the raccoons had indeed eaten most of the food and abscounded with the majority of the empty pouches. I was horrified at the thought of all those poor raccoons, out there in the snow, possibly dying of renal failure courtesy of my garbage.

Well, evidently, the raccoons (or, at least the majority of them) survived the Menu products, because I just finished cleaning up the aftermath of this week's fourth trash can raid. And it's only Tuesday. Apparently, raccoons must be quite fond of strawberry bagels, raw meat, horribly freezer-burned chicken burgers, and chocolate- because I can't keep them away from the darn stuff.

So, this morning, as I sat there scraping gobs of I-don't-even-want-to-know-what back into their respective bags, I pondered whether or not half a pound of stale Hershey's Cherry Cordial Creme Kisses was something a raccoon really ought to be eating. What if chocolate was poisonous to raccoons?

And then I got to the remnants of the five-day-old bag of raw meat products, and I realized something.

I don't really care anymore.

(That, and, it's probably time I invested in some decent trash cans. With lids.)

Take that, Meeko.

Side Note:

Okay- I know, I know.. complaining about hordes of cute, fluffy animals infiltrating the sanctity of my trash does not constitute a legitimate update. I will post a legitimate update when I can manage to recount the Nebraskan Invasion without resorting to shameless displays of emosity in the process. (This might take awhile. In fact, I am not entirely sure that it is possible.)

Until then, it's yard work (or the lack thereof) and raccoons.

Deal.