Let me set the scene for you.
Gaping holes in the ceiling tiles of the dean’s office, with drywall dust peppering the carpet beneath; maintenance men standing around with office staff in the lobby right outside the disheveled work space; a hint of raccoon urine wafting in the air…
The dean of the School of Humanities–the office for which I work–had complained some time ago that an anonymous critter was peeing in the space above the ceiling. Maintenance set up live traps and–voila! A ‘coon was caught. No one knew, however, the conviction with which a raccoon attempts escape.
The little rascal poked his tiny little claws (or is it fingers, or paws maybe?) out of the cage and scratched two holes in the ceiling that were the size of the crazy critter itself. I dare you to say that that’s not determination. All of this created much hullabaloo around the office. A brouhaha, if you will.
I took photos of George Cooney–coined by a little lady in the office by the name of Kate–as well as the havoc he wreaked. There is a lesson to be learned from this, my friendly followers: where there is raccoon pee, there are raccoons.