Enter Eudie:Matt and I were sitting on our deck, enjoying one of the many glasses of wine that was consumed that night, when Gumbo wandered over to us, mouth dripping with drool. When Gumbo is drooling like this, its because you or someone else has something delicious that he's not allowed to have. In this case, neither of us had anything Gumbo was interested in, which meant his sister must be the culprit.
I found her in "her" spot in the yard. Its the one area of the yard where she goes when she's eating or playing with something she's not allowed to have or doesn't want her brother to have (i.e., my shoes, an aluminum can, or her rawhide).
At first glance, I thought the fluffy figure being tossed around like a rag doll was Chopper. It was big, fluffy, and being chewed on and played with by a super-excited Eudie. I looked a little closer and discovered that her new play toy was a raccoon. A dead raccoon to be specific. (I was terribly relieved it wasn't Chopper, but also truly freaked out that it was a raccoon.)
Matt didn't believe my blood curdling screams of "Its a raccoon!!!! Its a raccoon!!!!" He ran down to Eudie's spot to check it out for himself, and confirmed it was, in fact, a raccoon.
Immediately upon our discovery, we both went into parent mode. We picked Eudie up, brought her inside and started inspecting her for bite wounds and scratch marks. I was ready to load her up and take her to the emergency vet. But we found no marks on her. There was no sign on Eudie of any fight at all. The poor raccoon couldn't say as much. He was dead as a door nail.
Upon Matt's inspection, we concluded that Eudie must have snuck up on him and crushed his skull. Eudie never barked or growled and the raccoon never hissed or screamed. There was no sound at all.
I couldn't believe it. After all of those terrible stories about dogs having to be put down or spend several days at the vet because of a raccoon, my dog kills one in Olympic Gold Medal style. That raccoon never knew what hit him.