My husband set poison traps for the raccoons that raided our backyard, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree. One night, they pulled something from the trash and I was curious. What I saw in the moonlight left me breathless and in tears.
“No, Kyle, please don’t hurt the poor thing!” The words tore from my throat as I watched my husband hurl a stone at a pregnant raccoon waddling across our backyard. The rock missed, thank God. And the animal scurried away, her movements clumsy with the weight of her unborn babies.
Kyle turned to me, his jaw set and knuckles white around another rock. “They’re pests, Josie. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop shaking. After fifteen years of marriage, you’d think I’d be used to his outbursts by now. But every time, it felt like a punch to the gut.
“They’re living creatures, Kyle. They’re just trying to survive.”
He scoffed, tossing the second rock between his hands. “Yeah, well, they can survive somewhere else. I’m sick of coming home to a war zone every day.”
“It’s hardly a war zone. It’s just some scattered trash.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start with me, Josie. Not today.”
The raccoon problem, as Kyle called it, had started last spring. We’d wake up to find our trash cans knocked over and contents strewn across the lawn.
Once, they even climbed onto our deck and raided the leftover barbecue from my birthday party. I didn’t mind much. They were just hungry, after all.
But Kyle took it personally like the animals were deliberately trying to provoke him.
“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.
Barbara Eden is 91 and still enjoying a successful career over 50 years after ‘I Dream of Jeannie’
Barbara Eden, who is 91 years old, has been performing for an incredible 70 years and is still going strong.
The actress, singer, and producer is most known for her role in the 1965 television series “I Dream of Jeannie,” though she had been on film for eleven years before that.
Many TV generations have watched the classic 1960s sitcom I Dream of Jeannie, which tells the story of an astronaut who brings home a 2,000-year-old female genie.
Fans watched and laughed despite the ridiculous premise because of Barbara Eden, the stunning and talented actress who portrayed Jeannie.
It might be hard for fans to believe, but Barbara is 91 years old now!
She hasn’t been seen on TV in her notorious harem attire in a while, but she is still going strong and staying busy.
Barbara’s life hasn’t always been easy, though.
Barbara Eden was born in Tucson, Arizona, in the United States, in 1931. Following her parents’ divorce, she moved to San Francisco and enrolled in the Conservatory of Music to begin studying singing.
Barbara grew up in Golden Gate City, where she played in neighborhood nightclubs with local bands. But in the end, she too decided to go into acting.
“Barbara, you don’t sound like you mean a word you’re singing,” my mother remarked. “Acting is something I think you should study too,” Eden recalled.
She then decided acting was a suitable fit for her and moved to Los Angeles, where she began appearing on some of the biggest shows of the 1950s.
She made her television debut in 1955 as a semi-regular guest on The Johnny Carson Show, but her role in the cult classic fantasy sitcom “I Dream of Jeannie” is what really made her famous.
Arizonan actress Jeannie played the enticing genie that astronaut and US Air Force Captain Anthony “Tony” Nelson (played by Larry Hagman) released from her bottle.
“We simply clicked,” Our rhythms were identical. Whatever we were doing, we were getting the same truth,” Eden clarified.
“I was really in love with him. There are some actors that you have to really try to like them. then you store it in a different mental box. But I never had to do it with Larry. He was there all the time.
She played Jeannie’s mother and her mean sister in the program over her five years in the role. Jeannie became well-known because of Eden’s harem clothes, which at the time was a touch too risque for television.
In 2015, close to the show’s 50th anniversary, she told Today, “Executives at NBC got very frightened.” “They tightened their rules regarding the navel.”
Eden asserted that the myth was really spread by means of an entirely separate, far earlier interview with the Hollywood Reporter, following her friend and columnist Mike Connolly’s ridicule of her over the issue.
Mike started making fun of my belly button when he first came in, and it quickly caught on and went throughout the globe. I would tease him back and we had a nice fun with it, but I had no idea it would turn into something.
The iconic ensemble additionally contributed to Eden’s rise to fame as a TV sex symbol among a host of celebrities, including Elvis Presley and John F. Kennedy, who emailed her his phone number.
As stated in her 2011 memoir, Jeannie Out of the Bottle, the actress “binned the piece of paper, but I wish I still had it.”
Eden, who is 91 years old, has acted in more than 50 motion pictures.
In her most recent movie, My Adventures with Santa, which came out in 2019, she portrayed Mrs. Claus. Melissa Gardner made her stage debut as Melissa Gardner in the play of “Love Letters” the same year the movie was made.
“I feel so young!” Barbara continued, saying that she felt fortunate to be able to accomplish the work that she did. “I feel bad for anybody who, like my poor father, had to work in a job he didn’t enjoy every day. I take pleasure in what I do. I’m still employed.
Barbara said that she had continued to go to the gym, do spin classes, and lift weights until a few years ago. Now, a personal trainer comes to her house to help with resistance training, and they take a walk together.
The television icon declared, “I have a lot of friends.” “I’m not too bad at socializing.”
She even has a scheduled appearance in March 2022.
She remarked in jest, “If I’m around, I’ll be there; I really like it.”
In addition to writing children’s books, Barbara likes to act. Barbara, a little child, meets a “charming and wizardly Genie” who takes her on adventures that are a little bit like those in her well-known part in the novel Barbara and the Djinn, which she co-wrote.
She claims that because “now all they do is look at telephones,” she believes that her books will help kids understand the importance of reading.
Barbara brushes off the notion that “I Dream of Jeannie” would seem a little out of date to modern audiences.
This is a famous concept, come on, she said. “Twelve Hundred and One Nights”? This fantasy is really sweet and great.
And to be very honest, you know, she was in charge. She was anything but submissive.
Barbara Eden has led such an incredible life, enabled by her positive outlook and boundless enthusiasm. She is a true example of how age is simply a number.
If you also adore this iconic actress, do share.
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