Ever since I was a small child, I've had an unreasonable obsession with raccoons. Their little bandit faces give me surges of cuteness aggression, to the point where I literally have a hard time "handling" their cuteness. Just the sight of one of their little criminal faces, has always had the ability to make me burst into spontaneous tears, simply out of joy from the sight of them. It's a little ridiculous. 

Today, it’s beautiful outside, but I'm inside... in my office going over the new paint shades. As I'm uploading our new SeaPaint shades to the website, I can hear Jose yelling frantically down the hall.

“Jess! Jess,!” Jose says running towards my office, his voice getting closer and closer until he reaches my door.

“What? What’s wrong?” I say mistaking his excitement for turmoil.

He shakes his head.

“No. Come here. Look!” he says motioning for me to follow him.

Slightly concerned and very curious, I follow him. Walking as fast as my little legs can carry me. I break into a slight sprint. Twenty seconds in, I’m already out of breath. On the verge of passing out, I follow him through the back door and out to the…dumpster?

“Look! Look inside,” he says pointing.

Peering over the edge, the smell of humidified trash fills my nostrils.

There on the mound of smellacious trash, are four little furry faces staring back at me through their adorably criminalistic masks.

“Raccoons!” I say slightly breathless from the sprint I had attempted moments before. I can’t tell if my chest is on fire because raccoons are my most favorite animal in the whole world or if it’s from my accidental attempt at exercise.

“Yeah, I knew you’d want to see them. But they’re trapped,” he says.

Looking into the dumpster again. I realize he’s right. The trash is too low for them to climb out.

“Oh,” I say suddenly hit by a realization. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.” I say, sprinting across the parking lot once again and bursting through the back door. My chest burns like a mother fucker, but I am on a raccoon adventure and I do not care.

Next to my office is the project room. It’s where I keep all the unpainted items that I plan on painting one day. Some day. Whenever. When I reach the door, I can see tucked away in the corner, under piles of dust and thrift store finds, is a quirky wooden ladder.

I snatch it from my doom pile and sprint off towards the dumpster once again, with a fire ablaze inside my lungs.

“I have this!” I say, holding it up proudly once I am in ear shot.

Jose’s eyes light up at the sight of it.

Pretty sure this when I fell in love with him all over again. By the dumpster, with the smell of rotting vomit and love in the air.

“Let me see,” he says reaching for it.

Lowering it into the dumpster, he eases it in gently trying his best not to startle them.

With the ladder secured against the dumpster wall, he lets go of the ladder and slowly backs away, giving them their space.

And we wait.

Five torturously long minutes later, one by one they make their way up the ladder with their adorable little claws. Each one pauses to look at me with their dark deep eyes, as if to say thank you, before darting back into the woods.

Tears spring to my eyes.

“Are you crying?” Jose asks incredulously.

“Oh,” I say giggling. I guess I am. “When I said I LOVE raccoons, I meant that shit with my whole chest.”

He laughs. “Well I’m glad I came and got you then.”

“I mean this oh so seriously. I will drop anything and I mean anything work related if you tell me there are raccoons outside.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

My phone dings.

“Order number 113,000.”