As we’ve previously established, I’m not really what you’d call a “country girl,” I own it because it’s true.
This was never more apparent when a sickly possibly rabid racoon came into our lives.
It started out a day pretty much like any other except for the racoon we noticed sitting on top of our mailbox, in the broad daylight looking at us like it dared us to try and remove it.
When I say this thing didn’t look good, I cant stress how much it really didn’t look good. It was snarled up, its mouth looked foamy and its fur stood on ends as if it was oiled.
The husband had to leave for work, so I’m left here with racoon Cujo on our mailbox. Eventually he made it down and was wandering the yard and straight up the middle of the road in front of our house. This thing didn’t even move when cars came up behind it, it just kept walking, and has fate would have it, it walked back into our yard.
Since we have small dogs I didn’t want to let them out with this thing on the loose, so I think – I’ll call Ohio DNR. Yeah, they’ll come out here take this thing away and all will be right in the world again.
I called them and was promptly told they couldn’t send someone as the only had 1 officer for 3 counties, BUT, I did have options. Each one more horrifying than the last. . .
She goes on to tell me in Ohio its legal to:
1) “Bash it in the head, double bag them and throw it in the trash.”
2) “Shoot it in the head, double bag it and throw it in the trash.”
* both of these were a NO.
3) “Live trap it, and release to a location away from us.”
* live trap a possibly rabid animal, and re-release it? HARD NO
4) “Just leave it alone and it will go off somewhere to die.”
I politely reminded her I was “NOT Daniel Fucking Boone.. not even Elmer Fucking Fud! I’m a city girl for the love of God and I’m UNDER ATTACK!”
She wasn’t moved. Thankfully racoon Cujo was as he eventually moved on, snarling all the way.