“I’m telling you, we need better locks for the cans,” I suggested one morning as Kyle angrily watched me scoop up the scattered garbage. “Maybe some chicken wire around the garden too. My sister Jane says that worked for them.”
“I don’t care what your sister says. What we need is to get rid of them. Permanently.”
I remembered when we first met, how his spontaneity had seemed charming. Now, at forty, that impulsiveness had morphed into an iron-fisted need to control everything, including me.
“Kyle, please. Can’t we try the peaceful way first?”
He jabbed a finger at me. “You always do this, Josie. Always trying to make everything complicated when there’s a simple solution right in front of us.”
“Simple doesn’t always mean right.”
He slammed the broom against the side of the house. “What was that?”
I flinched. “Nothing. I’ll look into better trash cans today.”
That weekend, I found Kyle in the garage, assembling something metallic.
“What’s that?” I asked, though I already knew. Animal traps.
He didn’t look up. “Insurance. These smart traps will catch anything that comes near our trash.”
“Kyle, please. They could hurt them.”
He slammed down his screwdriver. “That’s the point! I’m so sick of you defending these disease-carrying vermin. You act like they’re some kind of pets.”
“They’re not pets, but they don’t deserve to suffer. Maybe if we just—”
“Maybe if we just what, Josie? Let them take over? Build them a guest house while we’re at it? I’ve had it with your bleeding heart routine.”
I felt tears welling up but forced them back. “Why does everything have to be solved with violence? They’re just hungry animals, Kyle.”
He stood up, his face red. “You want to know what I think? I think you care more about these pests than our home. Than me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Every time I try to solve a problem, you fight me. The raccoons, the neighbor’s dog that keeps barking all night, even that group of teens that hangs out by our fence.”
“Those are all living beings, Kyle. Not problems to be ‘solved.’”
“This is my house!” he yelled, making me jump. “I work every day to pay for it, to keep it nice, and I’m not going to let some animals destroy it while my stupid wife takes their side!”
When the raccoons started showing up again this spring, Kyle completely lost it.
That evening, I was folding laundry when he stormed in, waving a piece of paper and grinning like he’d won the lottery.
“You’ll never guess what I found at the hardware store. Industrial-grade pest control. Guaranteed to solve our little problem.”
I took the paper. It was a receipt for animal traps and some kind of poison. My hands started trembling.
“Kyle, you can’t be serious. That stuff could kill them!”
He snatched the receipt back. “That’s the point, Josie. God, sometimes I think you’re being dense on purpose.”
“But what if neighborhood cats get into it? Or someone’s dog? We could get in trouble.”
Kyle’s face darkened. “I’ve made up my mind. The raccoons are gone by the end of the week, one way or another.”
I spent that night tossing and turning, my mind racing. When did the man I married become someone who could so casually talk about killing innocent creatures?
I thought about calling Jane, but I already knew what she’d say. She’d never liked Kyle and always said there was something off about him. Maybe I should have listened.
The breaking point came on a quiet Tuesday night two days later. I was reading in bed when I heard rustling outside. Peering through the window, I saw one of the trash cans had been knocked over again.
I slipped on my robe and grabbed a flashlight. As I approached the mess, something caught my eye. It was a black garbage bag, partially open, with something moving inside.
My hands trembled as I reached for it. “Oh no. No, no, no…”
Inside were three tiny raccoon babies, barely old enough to open their eyes. They were squirming weakly.
“Kyle!” I screamed, cradling the bag close. “Kyle, get out here right now!”
He appeared on the porch, looking annoyed. “What are you yelling about? It’s the middle of the night, you crazy woman!”
“Did you do this?” I held up the bag. “Did you throw away baby animals like they were garbage?”
He shrugged. “They’re pests. I’m handling it.”
“Handling it? They’ll die!”
“That’s the point, Josie. Jesus, why are you so naive? They’re just raccoons!”
“Just raccoons? They’re babies, Kyle! Living, breathing creatures that feel pain and fear. How would you feel if someone threw you away to die?”
He laughed, a cold sound that made me shiver. “Now you’re comparing me to a raccoon? How dare you, Josie?”
“I’m comparing you to someone with empathy, and you’re coming up short.”
Kyle stepped closer, his voice a chilling growl that made my blood run cold. “You know what your problem is? You’re soft. Always have been. The world isn’t some fairy tale where we all just get along. Sometimes you have to be tough.”
“Tough? There’s nothing tough about hurting something weaker than you. That’s just cruel.”
I looked at him and wondered how I’d never seen the cruelty that had always been there.
The next morning, I called every wildlife rescue in the area until I found one that could help. A kind woman named Marla showed me how to feed the raccoon kits with a tiny bottle.
“You’re doing great,” she assured me, watching as I cradled the smallest one. “They’re lucky you found them when you did.”
As I watched the kit suckle eagerly, tears rolled down my cheeks. “I just don’t understand how someone could be so cruel.”
Marla squeezed my shoulder. “Sometimes the animals we save end up saving us too.”
That evening, I found Kyle’s journal and a detailed plan for dealing with the “raccoon infestation.” It included poison locations, trap placements, and even a schedule. The methodical cruelty of it made me sick.
When Jane arrived, she saw the journal in my hands.
“Still think I’m overreacting?” I asked, showing her the pages.
She shook her head. “Josie, this isn’t about raccoons anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I think I’ve always known.”
The divorce papers were served a week later. Kyle didn’t seem surprised, just angry. As always.
“You’re really throwing me out over some pests?” he spat as he packed his things into boxes.
I stood my ground in the doorway of what was now my house alone. “No, Kyle. I’m ending this because of who you’ve become. Who you’ve always been, maybe, and I just didn’t want to see it.”
Days turned into weeks. The raccoon kits grew stronger.
The smallest one was shy and always hid behind his siblings. The middle one was curious about everything. And the biggest was protective, always watching out for the others.
Marla helped me release them back into the wild when they were ready. As we watched them toddle toward the treeline, I saw movement in the bushes. There, watching us, was their mother.
“Look,” Marla whispered. “She came back for them.”
The mother raccoon chittered softly, and her babies ran to her. Before disappearing into the forest, she turned and looked right at me. In that instance, I felt a connection to something larger than myself. Compassion.
“You know,” Marla said, “there’s an opening at the rescue center if you’re interested. We could use someone with your kindness.”
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years. “I’d like that.”
“You know, Josie, you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals. They’re like a mirror that reflects our true selves.”
Looking back, I realized the raccoons hadn’t just been victims of Kyle’s cruelty. They’d been my wake-up call. Sometimes it takes seeing someone else’s vulnerability to recognize your own.
As the raccoons disappeared into the trees, I took a deep breath and felt ready for a fresh start. I knew I deserved better, and that someday, I’d find the right person who saw the world with the same compassion I did.
Tragic events bring orphan colt, mare together
An orphan colt whose mother died shortly after giving birth has a new mom – a mare that had tragically lost her foal – thanks to the generosity of strangers and Washington State University veterinarians playing matchmaker.
Pairing an orphan foal and a nursing mare is a challenging task and one that commonly ends with failure. In this case, the connection was instantaneous.
“The mare had only been without a foal for about 24 hours,” Dr. Lisbeth Matthews, an equine medicine and surgery intern, said. “We walked her into the Veterinary Teaching Hospital and past him. He made a noise, and she went, ‘oh, there’s my foal,’ and started making noises back at him.”
It was a surprise to everyone how quickly the mare, named Shelly but affectionally called Mama by her owners, Roy and Faye Lions, accepted the colt. Equine veterinarian Jenifer Gold, who was helping to care for the foal and to supervise its introduction to the mare, said nursing mares frequently reject orphan foals, and when they don’t, the pairing process often takes days.
“She walked in and started nickering at him like it was her own baby – it was unbelievable,” Gold said. “I’ve been doing this for 20 years, and I have never seen it happen that way.”
The foal, which has been named Laredo, was admitted to the teaching hospital by his owner, Spokane resident Rachel Williams, just days after he was born when he started showing troubling digestive issues. Shortly after the colt arrived in Pullman, Faye Lions placed a call to WSU to see if the equine team was aware of any orphan colts needing a nursing mare.
“Our foal was dead, and nothing was going to bring it back, so we were hoping we could help someone else,” Faye Lions said. “It just so happened there was a foal there.”
A day later, the colt and Shelly were introduced.
“For them to be so willing to basically hand over their animal to a complete stranger after experiencing their own tragedy was pretty phenomenal,” Williams said. “I feel like in this scenario it was the worst of the worst for everybody, but there was a little bit of silver lining to the story.”
Williams is also grateful for the care and treatment she and her foal received at WSU.
“I just can’t even find words to say how great the veterinarians at WSU were,” she said. “They went above and beyond. I am just happy I ended up at WSU. I am so glad we were able to match those two up – it is kind of a miracle.”
Shelly will live with Williams until the colt is ready to be weaned, likely in six months, before she will return to her home in Kamiah, Idaho.
“It will be tough to say goodbye because you just naturally start to bond with animals, and she has kind of been my lifesaver,” Williams said. “It will be bittersweet for sure, but I am sure her owners will be happy to have her back.”
During the spring, the equine team at WSU typically sees at least a handful of orphan foals. Equine medicine specialist Dr. Macarena Sanz said orphan foals can be fed a powdered milk formula designed for horses, but those raised by humans typically develop behavioral issues that can become problematic as the animal matures.
“They turn out to be socially weird, have no understanding of personal space, and they are more difficult to train,” WSU equine veterinarian Macarena Sanz said. “The fact that this orphan foal has a mare is really going to make a difference.”
Sanz strongly encourages owners to immediately call their veterinarian if a foal is orphaned, as early care is critical to the animal’s survival.
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