Our house was built in 1905, an adorable ~1000 square foot miner’s shack. As is typical of new home buyers, we went into the process with a list of must-haves: 3 bedrooms (our room, a guest/future child’s1 room, and a home office to run my business), 2 bathrooms, and walkability to at least a few good restaurants or watering holes.
We explored dozens of homes, many of which had one quirk or another:
A custom handmade Tiki bar in the basement, a semi-permanent fixture replete with wooden swings hanging from the ceiling in lieu of bar stools.
An unfinished basement that spanned the footprint of the entire house, and the only things in said basement were the washer and dryer and — I shit you not — a toilet in the center of the room. No sink, no walls, just a (working) toilet and a roll of toilet paper sitting on the tank lid.
In one home, black sludge violently spewed from the kitchen sink, splattering the cabinets and ceiling, when another prospective home buyer turned on the disposal, thinking it was the light switch. This house also had black and white checkered linoleum tile on the floors, walls, and ceilings of the basement, along with what can only be described by this forensic psychologist as dried arterial blood sprayed across one corner’s wall and ceiling. We later learned the house had sat abandoned for three decades and was owned by a law firm that spent most of its time handling “sensitive cases”, which all but confirmed my blood splatter suspicion.
Ultimately, we settled into our adorable two bed/one bath shack, in the heart of Old Town Lafayette, CO. It had everything we wanted, except for the third bedroom and the second bathroom.
Okay, so it had one thing we wanted: walkability. But it also had things we didn’t know we wanted, like the absolute best neighbors, a bay window, a skylight in the bathroom, a door connecting the two bedrooms (so we could literally run circles around the house looking for each other), and an enduring friendship with the family who sold us their home. It’s got floors that slant in all sorts of directions (even after we attempted to level them out during our remodel), along with walls and ceilings that do the same. In the original part of the house, the 2x4s used to build the walls were hand-cut, and it shows.
But we never could have anticipated the many beasts with whom we would share this property.
The First Encounter
I had to travel to South Carolina for a work trip the day after we moved in. As I wound my way through the rural country roads, I passed hay bale after hay bale emblazoned with spray-painted swastikas and “Kill Hillary” messages. Needless to say, I didn’t exactly feel welcome in the state and was itching to get home.
That itch became insatiable when I stepped outside during my first break of the day and discovered a series of increasingly concerning text messages from Dave:
Hey honey, hope training goes well today!
I think there’s a bat in the house.
It looks like the bat tried to fly through the box fan, but the window was closed so he’s just lying there. I don’t know if it’s dead or not. I have to get ready for school.
Here’s a picture. That’s a bat, right?
Since Dave had to get to work (he’s a school psychologist), informed by a quick Google search, I suggested he grab a towel to use to pick up the bat, put it in a shoe box, and leave it outside. I called various pest control organizations and managed to reach a guy named Kyle, who has since become quite familiar with the beasts of our suburb. Kyle determined that the bat likely flew in from its home in our inaccessible attic through a can light in the kitchen. When the bat couldn’t figure out a way back into the attic, it attempted to fly out the window, failing to realize there was a box fan and a screen in the way of freedom.
Long story short, the bat was indeed alive, and Dave remains rabies-free. I also learned that American Airlines will waive the change fee if you provide them with an outlandish tale about a new home’s nocturnal visitor (photo evidence required) and sincere concern for your partner’s well-being as a result of the encounter.
Rumor has it that subscribing to Narrative Musings may also result in the waiving of an airline change fee.
Then Came the Skunks
I’m not sure how the stars continually align for me to be absent during the most exciting of beastly encounters, but I sure am grateful to have missed the two times James has been sprayed in our yard2.
The first time occurred when I was in Portland, OR for a bachelorette party and Dave was home with James. All I could do was help research what sort of concoction to brew that would alleviate the stench and remove the oils from James’s coat (hydrogen peroxide and Dawn dish soap!). After several rounds of scrubbing, rinsing, and repeating, Dave finally managed to get some rest. And by the time I returned home a few days later, the only indication that the event had actually occurred was the faint smell that still occasionally emanated from James’s collar for the better part of a year.
The second time occurred almost a year later when we were both out of town for my brother-in-law’s wedding in Maryland. Amanda (yes, that Amanda!) and Maggie were house and dogsitting for the week, and I think it’s safe to say that they immediately regretted that decision.
This time, the call came in at 2 am EDT and, in a brilliant stroke of luck, I happened to be awake to answer. They did what any sane person might do in that situation: Removed all fabric from the bathroom, rinsed James’s eyes as best they could, hosed him off in the yard, brewed the same concoction that worked for Dave with the leftover supplies, and locked him in the bathroom for the night until they could get more hydrogen peroxide. Again, I returned home to an almost normal smelling doggo.
It wasn’t until months later, right after we finished landscaping our yard, that I was home to witness the skunk squadron practicing their tactical approach in broad daylight.
Lawn maintenance c/o Dave!
So we called Kyle again, and tried to explain what we had seen. He didn’t believe us until we sent the photos, but he did show up the next day with a handful of baited (with cinnamon rolls) traps. The issues with skunks are abundant (they spray James, babies can’t control their spray so they spray whenever without any care, and they carry rabies and the plague), and we thought setting a few traps would fix the problem quickly.
But it turns out that raccoons also enjoy cinnamon rolls.
I love their human-like hands and their sweet little faces, but I don't like how they torture James.
When I called to inform Kyle that we hadn’t caught any skunks yet, but we did manage to capture a couple raccoons, he was taken aback. Apparently, it’s not very common to have this much of a wild animal problem where we live in suburban Colorado. We kept traps set up for the better part of three months, and overall managed to capture four skunks and well over a dozen raccoons (though, I am pretty sure it was the same raccoons almost every time). Each time I tried to open the traps to release the raccoons, they immediately started hissing at me, so those little bandits often remained in their mini jail cells until Kyle could come release them.
There’s still a family of raccoons living in the mostly hollowed out tree on our driveway, whom our lovely neighbors have dubbed Grandma, and I don’t think they’ll ever leave. They’re certainly not afraid of us, and they seem to enjoy coming as close to our front porch as they can until James frantically slams his entire body weight against the window in a feeble attempt to break out of the house to protect his land.
Just a family of teasing bandits, out for a stroll to scope out the neighborhood Halloween decor.
But last March, James had a midnight run-in with a raccoon in our backyard, when we had just returned home from a quick ski/snowboarding trip to Crested Butte for Dave’s spring break. By the time I heard the yelping and found James in the yard, he had chased the beast into our wood pile (positioned against the fence separates our yard from our neighbors’). James’s body was half hanging over said fence, and it took two of us to grab his back legs and yank him off the woodpile. I could hear the raccoon hissing in protest from deep within the confines of the wood, a terrifyingly sound. All I could think about was our friend’s dog who had been killed by an angry pack of raccoons a year or two prior.
I carried James inside, and when I set him down I noticed that there was blood on my arms and shirt, and now the doormat. Armed with a couple damp towels, I started methodically wiping away the blood and inspecting him for wounds, but when I couldn’t find any, I went back out into the yard (this time with a flashlight) to see if the raccoon had managed to escape from the woodpile. It was raining and there were pools of blood and bloody animal footprints all over the wood and surrounding rocks. Like any decent pet owner would do, I called the emergency vet down the road, explained the situation and that I didn’t think any of the blood was his, and they recommended we bring him in anyway, just in case. So I scooped him up in a large beach towel and Dave drove us to the clinic, where they immediately took him into the back office.
No more than 7 minutes later, the vet tech brought him back out to the lobby, having passed their wound inspection as well. They were so impressed that he had won whatever fight took place that they didn’t even charge us for the visit and instead suggested we get him an updated rabies booster vaccine the next day at his typical vet (where they were also impressed, and subsequently didn’t charge for the appointment or vaccine).
But wait, there’s more!
The bat, skunks, and raccoons are only a handful of the beastly encounters we’ve endured at our home. There have also been incidents with snakes, bees, yellow jackets, hornets, mice, squirrels, and even a woodchuck.
The woodchuck showed up during our remodel, and those cute little footprints will forever live on that 2x4 inside the wall of our bedroom.
James has a habit of trying to play with the snakes. He also repeatedly attempts to eat the bees, yellow jackets, and hornets, and when they sting his tongue and inside his mouth, he continually goes back for more (luckily, the swelling is alleviated by my swift delivery of Benadryl)—his skull may be expansive, but his brain can’t be larger than a walnut. He has zero interest in the mice, which I find to be pretty obnoxious because he would be great at scaring them away if he cared at all.
The squirrels are the worst, though. They like to take peaches off our neighbor’s tree and chuck them, half-eaten, at James’s head. They also pick up trinkets in other yards and deliver them to us (like gourds, toys from other dogs, and trash), and they’re entirely unafraid of taunting James on the electrical pole in the yard, encouraging him to try to climb up to catch them.
These encounters have taught me a lot in recent years. Primarily, I’ve learned that, as much as I’d like to control every little detail of my home and life, I’ll continually fall short so I’m better off rolling with the punches. I’ve also learned that skunks don’t like citrus and are afraid of a little red blinking light (a small device designed to mirror the eyes of their predators). Additionally, I’ve come to find that squirrels, like cows, are assholes.
This photo was taken right after I got pinged on the ear by an acorn, care of this asshole’s overhand fastball.
In our next call, I'll need to tell you about a hawk (or some kind of large raptor-looking bird) that flew into our house and was flinging itself against our sliding glass door something awful. That was a fun encounter.
There is so much to love here, but I think my hands-down favorite are James' free visits to the vet because of his valor. He is SUCH. A. GOOD. BOI.
Wonderful look into your life. Squirrels- rats with bad fur coats.Raccoons have toxic poo- look out.
Skunks- well- a family lived in our neighbor’s yard, won’t tell you how he got rid of them. Odor wafted into our yard. Bats- a student I worked with had one flying around her home and the family opted to have rabies shots🤦🏻♀️.
In our next call, I'll need to tell you about a hawk (or some kind of large raptor-looking bird) that flew into our house and was flinging itself against our sliding glass door something awful. That was a fun encounter.
There is so much to love here, but I think my hands-down favorite are James' free visits to the vet because of his valor. He is SUCH. A. GOOD. BOI.
Wonderful look into your life. Squirrels- rats with bad fur coats.Raccoons have toxic poo- look out.
Skunks- well- a family lived in our neighbor’s yard, won’t tell you how he got rid of them. Odor wafted into our yard. Bats- a student I worked with had one flying around her home and the family opted to have rabies shots🤦🏻♀️.