When I got home from Cleveland on Sunday, our downstairs neighbors (Dan the Man and his daughter) were out on their porch, which is right next to our front door. I noticed something odd as I came up the walkway and that something odd was two baby raccoons. On their porch. Like . . . in a cage.
Me: Um. Are those raccoons?
Dan the Man: Well, the mom died so we decided to raise them until we can release them.
Me: Oh. Cool.
Then we had a nice long conversation about how long it takes to raise raccoons and how smart they are and how you can domesticate them and then I got rabies and died.
Oh, wait, that didn't happen. Anyway, I emailed Heidi at work on Monday and was all, "did you know our neighbors are keeping raccoons on the porch?" and she was all, "WHAT?!" and I said, "yes, raccoons . . . on the porch . . . and they are smelly." And then Heidi sacked up and called the apartment complex. Naturally, since I was at my office and Heidi was at her office, I could not hear the conversation, but I was told it went something like this:
Heidi: Hi, I was walking by an apartment and they have raccoons on their porch.
Office Lady: Say that again?
Heidi: They have raccoons on their porch.
Office Lady: On purpose?
Heidi: Yes. In a cage.
Office Lady: Why?
Heidi: I don't know.
Office Lady: Who does that?
Heidi: Our neighbors.
Office Lady: Which apartment are you in?
Office Lady: Is this Heidi or Jennie?
Office Lady: You guys have the weirdest stuff happen to you**.
Then she told Heidi that they'd be gone within a day. And today they are gone. I wish I knew what happened to them. I feel bad because I didn't want them killed or anything, but if anyone in the apartment complex is going to accidentally get infected with rabies, it's gonna be me or Heidi. I mean, we had to take precautions.
*note: not our actual apartment number