A mom is running after her escapee child, who somehow managed to get 15 feet away from his mother’s grasp. The dad just stands there on his phone; he probably aided and abetted his son’s getaway to book his spot for an 18-hole game. That’s definitely what someone wearing a baseball cap, pale green shirt, and khaki shorts would do.
I open the front door to pick up a package (yes, I cleaned it before opening it and bringing it into my house) that I thought was meant for me but ended up being a delivery of masks from a family friend in Hong Kong—don’t get me wrong, I was very excited for that package as well.
A family of seven raccoons is turning the backyard into their personal playground. One hangs off the back stairs by one arm, another uses his oddly nimble fingers to prod another camera, two of them fight and tumble on the stairs, a particularly flexible prances around on the landing as if it were performing in Swan Lake, a baby raccoon aggressively flinches from side to side while playing with a feather, and the last—likely the grandpa—sits idly on the grass as it watches its chaotic family, shaking its head in embarrassment. Then, after partying for 20 minutes, Grandpa tells them it’s time to go home. One of its grandchildren is not cooperating, so Grandpa has to pin the poor thing down until it listens. After a few minutes, Grandpa leads the way home.
After taking the lead over rival runner Opossum, Skunk drops from the fence and dashes towards the finish line. Its rear end is ready to strike in case Opossum catches up, but Opossum is nowhere to be seen. Maybe Skunk already knocked him out?
I’m playing with Benji—an honorary member of my household (a.k.a. the cute raccoon I decided to “adopt”) that’s not part of the family of seven—through the window while my parents stand behind me taking photos of our “pet.”
A crow jumps step by step on the stairs to the roof with its afternoon snack in his mouth. Don’t you know it’s rude to chew with your mouth open? And this time, please clean up after your feast so I don’t have to. I’m tired of picking up bones from the lawn.
The guy that comes every two weeks to mow our lawn triggers the motion detectors way too many times and causes my phone to bombard me with notifications. I was in my International Relations class, dealing with an overly aggressive terrorist-harboring democracy who’s on the road to developing nuclear weapons in a simulation, and I thought some global conflict had just started in the real world. But no, it’s just the gardener.
This raccoon obviously had a little too much to drink at the animal nightclub. It’s obviously failing the sobriety test—it can’t even walk in a straight line. Let this be a reminder for you the next time you party.
Another skunk appears on camera. It stops moving and lifts its tail. Don’t you dare. I don’t want any of that stinky odor coming into the house, you hear me?
The cameras seem to capture too many videos of me doing embarrassing things. I had a mini photoshoot in my backyard to take some photos I could post on Instagram for my 17th birthday. I filmed TikTok dances in the backyard where no one would see me. I ran from a bee while watering some plants. Now, I just disarm the cameras whenever I have to go outside.
Sneak attack! A raccoon postures aggressively at two innocents. Sneak attack number two! As the mean raccoon prepares to jump, Super Raccoon saves the day and tackles its vicious rival to the ground.
At night, cars zip through the streets, rev their engines, and unnecessarily honk their horns. It wakes everyone up. At least they scare away the coyotes that come out from the nearby golf course.
Speaking of nighttime, a man has to resort to his phone’s flashlight to see where he’s walking because there are no damn streetlights in my neighborhood. I should send this clip to Public Works and complain. Maybe some Nextdoor neighbors will back me up on this.