Definitely NOT Compostible

Lucy was having a bark-fest around the compost bin this morning. This is hardly unusual. One of her favorite activities is to bark at the compost bin, the fence next to the bin, the drain next to the bin. We figure there is a neighborhood cat who skulks around there.

So she barked, and I ignored her. I did check on her once, and I saw her trying to leap up on top. I opened the window and hollered at her to stop. She had (I thought) knocked the front off and compost was spilling out on the grass. Oh, great! Another item on my “to do” list. Clean up the compost.  I didn’t exactly hurry out.

When I did, I filled a bucket with the stuff, which I planned to put at the base of the tree we got for Steven a few years ago. But not all of the compost had broken down. I grabbed a few stray egg shells to toss back in, flung back the lid, and came face to face with a big, fat raccoon.

Always good in a crisis, I shrieked and ran about 6 feet away.

The raccoon, having made a fairly impressive entrance, beat a hasty retreat. He leaped down and headed for the fence. After an hour of barking at this thing, Lucy was not letting it go without a fight. She lunged and jumped onto the raccoon. I yelled, I mean really yelled, at her to leave it alone. For heaven’s sake, just think of the vet bills! She relaxed long enough for the raccoon to get onto the fence. It took him a minute to heave his fat butt over the top, and then he ran off.

I may never innocently fling that lid open again.

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April 11, 2012. Lucy, Mommy.

One Comment

  1. Greg Fernald replied:

    Elizabeth, you should have caught it and sent it to Shelley, she loves raccoons. See you at the reunion, I hope.

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