Clean Up in Aisle 5!

Let the clean up begin!  Who have thought there would be so much to do after a rabid zombie raccoon wanders onto your property?  What are the odds?  What am I talking about?  I am talking a very large, furry Rocky Raccoon, stumbling and bumbling like a drunken sailor, up through the cut out by the driveway.  Sure sign of rabies:  the slow, dizzy lethargic, motion.  No, it did not appear to be foaming at the mouth.  I think it was well past that.  A swarm of flies followed it, like it was a moving turd.  They knew it was only a matter of time.
     Rocky decided to wander up on my deck and take a nap.  Gizmo barked like mad at the sliding glass door.  Rocky didn't even bat an eye.  But the damage done by that?  Rocky could have left saliva anywhere there.  That is the danger with rabies.  Blood and saliva.  Blood is the reason that I need to condemn my shed.  That is where I trapped the thing, and Duxbury's finest took it down with 5 rounds, 3 from a 9 mm pistol and 2 from a .22 rifle.  As far as I am concerned, Rocky was a Zombie after the first shot.  He tried to get up after each round.  Nothing was going to keep him down.  Apollo?  Clubber?  Drago?  Bring 'em all on.
     Demi spent a full day power washing the deck.  I ran to get supplies.  At one point, I had 8 gallons of bleach and 5 gallons of gas in my car.  If I got stopped, I was going to look like Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction.  I threw out a stroller Rocky had tried to crawl into, along with some loose items in the shed.   I poured bleach all over the aftermath, once Animal Control came to collect the carcass.  What an ordeal.  I am just glad the boys were not out playing or walking Gizmo.  That could have been bad.   And here I thought I only had to worry about the coyotes.