Raccoon wars

The nice drugstore clerk seemed a bit surprised when I told her what I wanted: an old-fashioned transistor radio. No, I definitely didn't need earphones. Or MP3 compatibility, or whatever else they might have as options. (Nor will I be taking photos with it, or summoning up the internet.) But she had just what I wanted. Something by Sony, something you could have bought in 1970. And it cost just $19.99.

She would have been more surprised if I'd told her why I wanted it.

Persistent readers may recall my past discussions of what I like to term "the raccoon wars." If not, you may wish to click here and review the record. The raccoon who considers my house within his juridical boundaries has grown ever bolder. While I was off on vacation last month, my cat care person found it impossible to keep him from entering the cat door. He gobbled great quantities of cat food, despoiled the cats' water supply, wandered throughout the house, upstairs and down, and generally made himself at home.

Within a couple of hours of my return, he pushed his largeness in through the cat door, finding himself mildly surprised to confront me face to face. Later that week, while I was upstairs reading in bed, something large and bushy appeared in my peripheral vision. .... I looked up quickly, and there he was, my masked nemesis, mildly curious as to whether I might have stashed a little extra food somewhere within the bedroom.

But the radio, you ask? Be patient, I'm getting there. Next week, I'll be gone for four days over Thanksgiving, ok? Do I turn the house over to El Bandito? Not if I can help it. Someone told me that someone had told them that they knew of someone who kept a radio or TV booming loudly while they were out, thereby fooling their own wily raccoon into believing that someone was home.

I'm not going to leave my stereo booming for four days and nights, but I figure that a little radio with a couple of AA cells -- placed a couple of feet from the cat door -- might work. But who knows? This critter wasn't born yesterday, and he has nerves of steel. Or, should I say, brass.

If he isn't fooled, the next step will be a new cat door with electronic keys for my cats' collars. But, as I suggested in my earlier post, that would require hiring a carpenter to install a completely new back door with a properly sized cut in which to install the cat door.

If a hippie-era transistor radio works, I'd prefer to get by for a mere $19.99.