5:45 (ish) am. It’s dark outside. I’ve been trying to fall back to sleep since 4:30. My husband is at the gym. I know this because this must have been what woke me up in the first place (pfft). Plus, I saw him leave.
No problem. I got time. Go back to bed, Mary.
Clank.
The cat food dish hits the tile floor downstairs. It happens. We keep the food up high out of the dog’s reach, but not a food-motivated cat who defies gravity regularly despite a generous belly.
5:58: I hear louder noises downstairs. Some clanking around. Maybe Oliver (the cat) got into something.
As I walk down the stairs, I can see into our mudroom just enough to see the door to the outside with his cat door cut into it about ⅓ of the way up.
The cat door – a brilliant invention – for the last 5 years has saved us getting up at all hours of the night to let him in and out.
Yes, he’s the boss of this house.
The lock syncs with the microchip in Oliver’s ear. When he comes up to the door from outside, it clicks open, he squeezes through (defying logic again with his midlife dad-bod), and locks behind him.
Anyhoo, much ado about a cat door, but here’s why: I figure maybe Oliver’s having trouble with it, maybe the batteries are dead or something.
As I get closer, though, it’s almost like there’s a person there. The noises are big noises. Not 15lb stealth cat noises.
So I think maybe Brandon didn’t go to the gym. Maybe he’s looking for something in the closet. I called out to him.
What are you doing? No response.
I get to the door, flip the light on and peek inside… And see the giant a$$ end of a raccoon, shoulders hunched over the dish like Gollum with a fish.
I shut the door and walk away. My heart might explode out the top of my head.
When I say giant, I mean like 4 times the size of Oliver. I even questioned whether it could be a raccoon. It was so big.
I might have asked ChatGPT if raccoons have long tails, because maybe it was some mountain lion or something.
No WAY that animal made it through that cat door. WTF?
Did Brandon leave the garage door open? Was he in here all night?
Did he follow the dog into the house?
Not the point, I guess. What the $%^& do I do now?
Raccoons are scary creatures with hauntingly human-like hands, opposable thumbs and all. They are only cute in cartoons. And I have one backed into an 8×4-foot space.
I text Brandon who is about halfway through a Cross Fit class at this point. I don’t do CrossFit, but I’m pretty sure you don’t check your phone between burpees and clean and jerks.
I’ve got a plan. I’ll open both garage doors, move my car outside. I’ll get a ladder to stand on, lean over and open the mudroom-to-garage door. He has plenty of room to run by me and out of my life.
Then I see Oliver jogging down the sidewalk toward home. OH NO! He can’t go in his cat door and come face to face with the largest, meanest and likely most rabid raccoon this side of the Mississippi.
I get him into the house. Open the garage doors, just about to grab the ladder and… sit on the front porch instead.
And wait. Until Brandon gets home. Not proud of my damsel in distress moment, but I guess that’s why the world has all of us. Need someone to write the ransom letter? That’s me.
Deal with oversized rodents? Someone else. He gets home, hops out of the car like he’s just taking out the garbage, and heads into the garage.
I’m safely outside, phone in hand, ready to film the beast. Brandon steps up onto a shelf beside the mudroom door, leans in just enough to reach the handle without putting his feet in the danger zone…
Opens it, only to find…NOTHING! It was like when Geraldo Rivera spent a day televising the long-awaited opening of Al Capone’s tomb, only to find…nothing. Anyone remember that in the 80s?
You might think I was hallucinating the whole thing. Except the cat’s food, the dog’s food, the cat’s treats – all gone.
One water dish, flipped over.
The other, dirty water with whatever this raccoon had stuck to his furry face when he drank.
We cleaned it up, and I might have spent the next hour searching for raccoon and pet door videos. If you’re interested, this one depicts what I think happened.
The next day, the new model of the cat door arrived on our front porch. This one…locks both ways.
I may never be the same again. Chills just thinking about it. I suppose there’s a lesson in this somewhere. A few, probably.
That raccoon had no business being in my mudroom. But there he was.
What other unexpected guests can sneak through the cat door of life?
The surprise resignation. The client who ghosts. The awkward conversation you thought you’d avoided.
You don’t always get to choose what shows up. But you do have to deal with it once it’s in the room.
My advice, surround yourself with people highly capable in the areas you are not.
Someone for the raccoons. Someone for the ransom letters. And someone to grab the coffee after.
Thank you, Brandon.
New to One Thing Thursdays?
Each week, I share something I’m learning, living, or working out in real time. It’s part storytelling, part reflection. I hope there’s something in it for you too.
Mary
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