A couple of days ago there was an injured raccoon wandering around our yard. Jody was going to shoot it but couldn't find any .22 shells (that stock pile is real helpful when it's buried and unreachable in his shed). He was on his way out the door to run an errand so he said he would take care of it later. The raccoon was gone when he got back and long forgotten.
Fast forward to today. There was a smell. A smell like something died under the porch. Searching out death odors is not under my list of household responsibilities. As soon as Jody got in from work, I asked him to investigate.
Confirmed: dead raccoon under the porch.
GROSS!! He removed it and almost lost his lunch in the process. I love that man. And the next time he complains about changing a dirty diaper, it so isn't going to fly.