Surprise, surprise.

My heart jumped as my dogs, who, moments ago, were lying peacefully on my feet, started yelling, “INTRUDER! INTRUDER!” Well, that’s what I imagine them trying to yell anyway. It actually sounded like ‘Bark, bark! BA-OOOORK!” (The final bork came from the larger of the two pups with the galumphing stride who often chokes on her own tongue).

I stood up, ready to go to the door to retrieve the package I saw the UPS guy walking up the driveway holding, but I didn’t make it very far. THUD. Apparently my feet had gone numb from two giant dogs lying on them for nearly an hour as I tried to get some work done. I finally made it to the door, shaking my feet out with each step as if I were trying to shake off some unsavory mystery matter from the bottom of my feet. The tingles were nearly gone by the time I got to the door. As I opened it, however, I realized my vital mistake. I did not look through the window before opening the door. The foot tingles has been a solid distraction.

Raccoons. So many raccoons. The once smooth brown paper package was nearly in shreds as my composure turned to shambles. “Whyyyyy?!” I yelled with my dogs (though they pronounced it wrong, just like they always do with ‘intruder’). Raccoon number one—whom we will now refer to as Roufus, as he will be an important member of the group dynamic in this adventure as we progress in the story— tore the final piece of brown paper and held it, victoriously above him. He looked in my eyes with wreckless abandon before he began to devour the contents of the package. Now I see why. The infamous Amazon gummy bears. Who would send this to me?! Did they plan on the raccoons partaking in this devilish abomination or was it a cruel prank meant to haunt me for days after consumption? Perhaps just a joke, knowing I’d read the stories and reviews that had gone viral. But who or why was the least of my concern for the next several hours. The ‘what now’ was the only question that mattered anymore.

‘BA-OOORK!’ yelled the big snarf monster named Skaskorski as she lept, insufficiently, toward the raccoons. She landed on my feet and simply scared the raccoons into the air for a brief, though important, moment before Ranger, the more dedicated defender of the home yelled his battle cry and lunged. “BARK BARK, BARK BARK!” He went to attack from behind, preventing an escape. A solid plan. Unless your door is wide open and you DON’T want raccoons INSIDE of your home.

Well, too late. We now are the proud owners of several vicious and hungry raccoons. Fun. Roufus was clearly the leader. The remaining raccoons, who were already rampaging through the house, seemed impossible to count. That might have proven to be the most challenging part of the whole ordeal. Never knowing if you’ve truly ever gotten them ALL.

Roufus was the first to discover the pantry. It didn’t take the others long to follow suit. I grabbed the smallest; we will refer to her as Gina. Gina was slippery and got away easily. As I reached for her once more, the second largest, perhaps the mother of the crew, who we will now refer to as Bertha, unleashed this screech of anger before pouncing on my face. Blinded, I screamed and shook my head with the battle cry of dogs behind me, either cheering me on or absolutely astonished at my poor rodent fighting skills and yelling directions that I could not follow, even if I understood them. My mind was 99% focused on Bertha’s grip on my face… and 1% replaying the imagery my brain conjured the last time I’d read the elaborate Amazon gummy bear review…

That percentage of brain power was about to shift sharply in the favor of protecting my home from explosive rabid raccoon GI issues. As I rapidly thought of my options, knowing that Gina and all other smaller-than-Bertha sized raccoons were off limits until the mother of the tribe were out of the picture, I ran to the door, Bertha still attached. I screamed my battle cry and fell to my knees on the ground, unable to release her grip. I smashed my head into the ground with her body as a buffer until she let go. Phew. One down. As I stood up, I realized she was no longer on the ground. Where the…. Freaking DAMNIT. In the house again?! Yep. Head bashing the ground was all for naught. Time for new tactics.

Obviously a towel or blanket was a good plan. I grabbed one off the closest bed and ran to capture the disaster crew. I caught three, including Bertha, and began dragging them to the door. However, they were not thrilled about being caught in a blanket and had perhaps too much free space and were able to bounce around hard enough to pull an edge out of my hand and escape, clawing me down my side and my arm as they went. Gah! That didn’t work!

Fortunately, Ranger had them cornered and my now ripped blanket seemed useless so I went to find the next closest blanket. A baby blanket. Huh. ‘Well, we’re about to make this work,’ I thought as I grabbed Bertha and wrestled her into the small blanket, realizing with only mild delight, that it was really no harder than swaddling a colicky baby. Sure, Bertha had claws, but I also could be as rough as I wanted to without fear of damaging a sweet fragile child. After all, Bertha had just proven her vitality in battle by not even taking a moment to breathe after my head-ground-damnit incident we had just experienced together. Success. I had swaddled a rabid raccoon. As I picked her up, I saw her eyes filled with… with what? Was that… the look of regret? Then I felt it and I knew. The rumbling of her tiny tummy against my hand. In a quick motion, I scooped her up like a baby football and ran to diaper her. Why did I do that? I’m still not entirely sure. Motherly instincts perhaps. A feeling of pity, most definitely. I felt somehow responsible, whether it was due to the mysterious brown paper package left unattended for a few moments, or due to smushing her tummy between my head and the ground not long before. Two things became apparent in that moment: first, that I was incredibly lucky she didn’t blow when my face was entangled in her grasp, and secondly, the rest were not far behind her now. It’s go time. I set Bertha down outside, at minimum of 10 feet from the house before removing her over-the swaddle-diaper, being sure to aim her away from me or the door. I then ran in and grabbed more baby blankets. Hey, it worked, right? I swaddled four smaller raccoons, one was obviously Gina, the others will remain nameless as they did not have prominent parts in this journey. I set them all outside with Bertha.

When I came back in to get Roufus, he was gone. Not in the pantry. Not in the kitchen. I began stalking around the house with a baby blanket at the ready as if I were some really weird assassin. I could hear Ranger’s guttural growling from downstairs. I followed the noises to see that Roufus had gotten himself stuck in a window trying to escape. Uh oh. His upper body held him at the absolute worst angle for the gummy bear situation in a small window above my bed. Ooooooh no. This was bad news. I tried to push his bottom up and out gently, like Rabbit does for Pooh when he’s had too much honey. But Pooh hadn’t ever had these gummy bears. I held my breath and closed my eyes, turning my head away in preparation. He wouldn’t budge. Then I remembered! The diaper! Yes! Excellent! I went to retrieve it and came back just in time to catch the raccoon’s mess, his explosion allowing him to be pushed further through the window. Oh wow. I needed fresh air and I needed this raccoon gone. I went out the front door and to the window where he grasped for dear life. I pulled him through and he nearly flung into my arms with abandon and gratitude. We were both now covered in what was once Amazon gummy bears.

Just as Roufus clung to me, breathing heavily, I began to cry tears of joy for extracting the mess of raccoons out of my home. I was about to go release the swaddled crew members to be reunited, when I turned to see the UPS guy. A slight man in his early 20’s. He went ghost white as I stood a few feet from him. He could certainly smell the situation that had unfolded and could see the raccoon clinging to me in relief. “I had the wrong address earlier…” he stated slowly.

“It’s too late. What’s done is done. Whoever ordered that should be relieved to know, it was a mistake that Roufus here took care of for them.”

Roufus, seemingly out of a moment of clarity, held up his victory piece of brown paper packaging, before jumping down and scurrying into the woods, blown out diaper left on the wayside. I pointed to the remainder of the package still on my deck before silently cleaning up the diaper and walking to the back yard to hose myself down and release Bertha and her babes. When I finally showered the day off of me and washed my bedding, throwing some away as deemed necessary, I wondered if… no… did I count seven earlier? I only released six… uh oh.

There is a moral in this story somewhere. I invite you find it for yourself, whether it is don’t trust a package you don’t recall ordering, always keep baby swaddles near by, or perhaps something in between. Whatever it is, I hope you never need to learn it the hard way. ‘What is the hard way?’ you might ask. Raccoons. Raccoons are always the hard way.