My husband set poison traps for the raccoons that raided our backyard, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree. One night, they pulled something from the trash and I was curious. What I saw in the moonlight left me breathless and in tears.
“No, Kyle, please don’t hurt the poor thing!” The words tore from my throat as I watched my husband hurl a stone at a pregnant raccoon waddling across our backyard. The rock missed, thank God. And the animal scurried away, her movements clumsy with the weight of her unborn babies.
Kyle turned to me, his jaw set and knuckles white around another rock. “They’re pests, Josie. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop shaking. After fifteen years of marriage, you’d think I’d be used to his outbursts by now. But every time, it felt like a punch to the gut.
“They’re living creatures, Kyle. They’re just trying to survive.”
He scoffed, tossing the second rock between his hands. “Yeah, well, they can survive somewhere else. I’m sick of coming home to a war zone every day.”
“It’s hardly a war zone. It’s just some scattered trash.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start with me, Josie. Not today.”
The raccoon problem, as Kyle called it, had started last spring. We’d wake up to find our trash cans knocked over and contents strewn across the lawn.
Once, they even climbed onto our deck and raided the leftover barbecue from my birthday party. I didn’t mind much. They were just hungry, after all.
But Kyle took it personally like the animals were deliberately trying to provoke him.
“I’m telling you, we need better locks for the cans,” I suggested one morning as Kyle angrily watched me scoop up the scattered garbage. “Maybe some chicken wire around the garden too. My sister Jane says that worked for them.”
“I don’t care what your sister says. What we need is to get rid of them. Permanently.”
I remembered when we first met, how his spontaneity had seemed charming. Now, at forty, that impulsiveness had morphed into an iron-fisted need to control everything, including me.
“Kyle, please. Can’t we try the peaceful way first?”
He jabbed a finger at me. “You always do this, Josie. Always trying to make everything complicated when there’s a simple solution right in front of us.”
“Simple doesn’t always mean right.”
He slammed the broom against the side of the house. “What was that?”
I flinched. “Nothing. I’ll look into better trash cans today.”
That weekend, I found Kyle in the garage, assembling something metallic.
“What’s that?” I asked, though I already knew. Animal traps.
He didn’t look up. “Insurance. These smart traps will catch anything that comes near our trash.”
“Kyle, please. They could hurt them.”
He slammed down his screwdriver. “That’s the point! I’m so sick of you defending these disease-carrying vermin. You act like they’re some kind of pets.”
“They’re not pets, but they don’t deserve to suffer. Maybe if we just—”
“Maybe if we just what, Josie? Let them take over? Build them a guest house while we’re at it? I’ve had it with your bleeding heart routine.”
I felt tears welling up but forced them back. “Why does everything have to be solved with violence? They’re just hungry animals, Kyle.”
He stood up, his face red. “You want to know what I think? I think you care more about these pests than our home. Than me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Every time I try to solve a problem, you fight me. The raccoons, the neighbor’s dog that keeps barking all night, even that group of teens that hangs out by our fence.”
“Those are all living beings, Kyle. Not problems to be ‘solved.’”
“This is my house!” he yelled, making me jump. “I work every day to pay for it, to keep it nice, and I’m not going to let some animals destroy it while my stupid wife takes their side!”
When the raccoons started showing up again this spring, Kyle completely lost it.
That evening, I was folding laundry when he stormed in, waving a piece of paper and grinning like he’d won the lottery.
“You’ll never guess what I found at the hardware store. Industrial-grade pest control. Guaranteed to solve our little problem.”
I took the paper. It was a receipt for animal traps and some kind of poison. My hands started trembling.
“Kyle, you can’t be serious. That stuff could kill them!”
He snatched the receipt back. “That’s the point, Josie. God, sometimes I think you’re being dense on purpose.”
“But what if neighborhood cats get into it? Or someone’s dog? We could get in trouble.”
Kyle’s face darkened. “I’ve made up my mind. The raccoons are gone by the end of the week, one way or another.”
I spent that night tossing and turning, my mind racing. When did the man I married become someone who could so casually talk about killing innocent creatures?
I thought about calling Jane, but I already knew what she’d say. She’d never liked Kyle and always said there was something off about him. Maybe I should have listened.
The breaking point came on a quiet Tuesday night two days later. I was reading in bed when I heard rustling outside. Peering through the window, I saw one of the trash cans had been knocked over again.
I slipped on my robe and grabbed a flashlight. As I approached the mess, something caught my eye. It was a black garbage bag, partially open, with something moving inside.
My hands trembled as I reached for it. “Oh no. No, no, no…”
Inside were three tiny raccoon babies, barely old enough to open their eyes. They were squirming weakly.
“Kyle!” I screamed, cradling the bag close. “Kyle, get out here right now!”
He appeared on the porch, looking annoyed. “What are you yelling about? It’s the middle of the night, you crazy woman!”
“Did you do this?” I held up the bag. “Did you throw away baby animals like they were garbage?”
He shrugged. “They’re pests. I’m handling it.”
“Handling it? They’ll die!”
“That’s the point, Josie. Jesus, why are you so naive? They’re just raccoons!”
“Just raccoons? They’re babies, Kyle! Living, breathing creatures that feel pain and fear. How would you feel if someone threw you away to die?”
He laughed, a cold sound that made me shiver. “Now you’re comparing me to a raccoon? How dare you, Josie?”
“I’m comparing you to someone with empathy, and you’re coming up short.”
Kyle stepped closer, his voice a chilling growl that made my blood run cold. “You know what your problem is? You’re soft. Always have been. The world isn’t some fairy tale where we all just get along. Sometimes you have to be tough.”
“Tough? There’s nothing tough about hurting something weaker than you. That’s just cruel.”
I looked at him and wondered how I’d never seen the cruelty that had always been there.
The next morning, I called every wildlife rescue in the area until I found one that could help. A kind woman named Marla showed me how to feed the raccoon kits with a tiny bottle.
“You’re doing great,” she assured me, watching as I cradled the smallest one. “They’re lucky you found them when you did.”
As I watched the kit suckle eagerly, tears rolled down my cheeks. “I just don’t understand how someone could be so cruel.”
Marla squeezed my shoulder. “Sometimes the animals we save end up saving us too.”
That evening, I found Kyle’s journal and a detailed plan for dealing with the “raccoon infestation.” It included poison locations, trap placements, and even a schedule. The methodical cruelty of it made me sick.
When Jane arrived, she saw the journal in my hands.
“Still think I’m overreacting?” I asked, showing her the pages.
She shook her head. “Josie, this isn’t about raccoons anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I think I’ve always known.”
The divorce papers were served a week later. Kyle didn’t seem surprised, just angry. As always.
“You’re really throwing me out over some pests?” he spat as he packed his things into boxes.
I stood my ground in the doorway of what was now my house alone. “No, Kyle. I’m ending this because of who you’ve become. Who you’ve always been, maybe, and I just didn’t want to see it.”
Days turned into weeks. The raccoon kits grew stronger.
The smallest one was shy and always hid behind his siblings. The middle one was curious about everything. And the biggest was protective, always watching out for the others.
Marla helped me release them back into the wild when they were ready. As we watched them toddle toward the treeline, I saw movement in the bushes. There, watching us, was their mother.
“Look,” Marla whispered. “She came back for them.”
The mother raccoon chittered softly, and her babies ran to her. Before disappearing into the forest, she turned and looked right at me. In that instance, I felt a connection to something larger than myself. Compassion.
“You know,” Marla said, “there’s an opening at the rescue center if you’re interested. We could use someone with your kindness.”
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years. “I’d like that.”
“You know, Josie, you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals. They’re like a mirror that reflects our true selves.”
Looking back, I realized the raccoons hadn’t just been victims of Kyle’s cruelty. They’d been my wake-up call. Sometimes it takes seeing someone else’s vulnerability to recognize your own.
As the raccoons disappeared into the trees, I took a deep breath and felt ready for a fresh start. I knew I deserved better, and that someday, I’d find the right person who saw the world with the same compassion I did.
My Best Friend Gave Me the Wrong Dress Code for Her Wedding – I Decided to Outplay Her Smartly
My Best Friend Gave Me the Wrong Dress Code for Her Wedding – I Decided to Outplay Her Smartly
When Emily’s friend, Elle, gets engaged to her boyfriend, Brian, she is completely over the moon. Emily does everything she can to help Elle plan her dream wedding. But then Elle starts acting secretive and gives Emily a wedding invite with the incorrect dress code. Thankfully, a mutual colleague gives Emily the correct details, allowing her to show up to the wedding to teach Elle a lesson.
“I’m engaged, Em!” Elle said, rushing through my door while I was sitting on the couch and reading a book.
A woman reading on a couch | Source: Unsplash
“What?” I exclaimed, standing up to hug her tightly. “I’m so happy for you, my girl!”
Elle sat down on the couch and showed me her hand.
“Look at this rock!” she said.
A close-up of an engagement ring | Source: Unsplash
Of course, I was over the moon for her. We’d been through so much together, and now it was her turn to walk down the aisle.
For my wedding, a few years ago, Elle had been right by my side. She helped me plan every little detail, from the font on my wedding invitations to the menu selections.
“It’s more like you and Elle are getting married,” my husband, Grant, laughed one evening when I told him everything that Elle and I had planned.
A laughing man | Source: Unsplash
“Well, she’s been around longer than you,” I replied, showing him the mockup for our wedding invitations.
And it was true, Elle and I had been friends since our childhood, having lived on the same street and gone to the same kindergarten together.
We shared every major milestone, from awkward teenage years to college graduation, together.
Two women lying on a bed | Source: Pexels
We even ended up working at the same company, making sure to have lunch and tea breaks together every day.
So, naturally, I expected her to be just as involved in her wedding planning as she was in mine.
“Brian and I don’t want to be engaged for too long,” she said one day at the office while we were having tea and pastries.
An office kitchen | Source: Unsplash
“So, we’re planning for the wedding to be in a few months.”
“That’s a lot to do in a few months, Elle,” I said, sipping my tea.
“I know,” she agreed. “But you’ll help me!”
A woman drinking from a mug | Source: Pexels
As the weeks went by, Elle asked me for advice on the venue, the dance, and the flowers.
“I need it to be perfect, Em,” she said. “Brian and I are the only children of our parents, so this is the only chance they’re going to get to be parents of the bride and groom.”
A smiling older couple | Source: Midjourney
I helped her wherever I could. I booked visits of stunning venues that she could see. I booked her appointment with the florist who had done all the flowers at my wedding. And I arranged for her to meet my choreographer for her first dance with Brian.
“I don’t know how I could have done any of this without you,” Elle said, holding my hand.
Two women holding hands | Source: Midjourney
But that’s not the best part of this story.
Despite our shared history and all the assistance I had given Elle throughout her wedding planning process, she didn’t tell me anything about the actual wedding.
“I want to keep the location a secret,” she said sheepishly, a small smile on her face. “I want it to be a surprise. So, you’ll know when the invites come out.”
A close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
And yet, when the invitations came out, I never received mine.
“Darling,” I asked Grant when I got home one day. “Did Elle’s wedding invitation come in the post?”
“No,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Shouldn’t she have just given it to you?”
A man using a tablet | Source: Midjourney
“I thought so, but I’m not sure where our invitation is.”
“Ask her, love,” my husband said.
I was puzzled, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
A close-up of a surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
So, I asked her directly.
“Oh, right,” she said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I must have forgotten. I don’t have any on me at the moment, but I’ll bring one for you tomorrow!”
The next day, Elle handed me an invite. To my surprise, the dress code was “Mermaid.”
A wedding invitation on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Like the cartoon character?” I said aloud.
It seemed bizarre, but Elle had always loved that cartoon, so I tried to rationalize it.
“Maybe she’s going for a whimsical theme?” I muttered, thinking about a mermaid-themed wedding.
An imagined mermaid-themed wedding | Source: Midjourney
But still, I planned my outfit for Elle’s wedding.
It was about a week before the wedding when our colleague, Jane, and I were standing outside during one of our tea breaks and chatting.
“I’m actually looking forward to getting all dressed up,” Jane said. “It’s been a while since I put on a good pair of heels and did my makeup for fun and not work.”
A woman putting on makeup | Source: Unsplash
“What do you mean? Is your costume all sorted?” I asked.
“What costume?” Jane asked, her reaction priceless; she looked at me like I had lost my mind.
“Elle’s invitation said that the dress code was mermaid-themed,” I said.
A surprised young woman | Source: Midjourney
“I think she’s joking with you,” Jane laughed. “My invitation said ‘Cocktail’ as the dress code.”
My heart sank.
Elle was setting me up, but why?
For the next few days, I kept my head down, barely interacting with Elle.
A close-up of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney
I was feeling sidelined and hurt. We’d always been honest with each other, so why was she doing this now?
I remembered how supportive she was during my wedding and couldn’t understand why she didn’t want me involved in hers.
On the day of the wedding, I arrived in a long, elegant gray dress.
A woman wearing a long gray dress | Source: Midjourney
Grant and I sat at the back, away from the crowd, and we watched the beautiful ceremony unfold. I wondered why I wasn’t a bridesmaid.
But it was only during the reception, when Elle saw me, that the truth came out.
A bridal couple kissing | Source: Unsplash
“What the hell are you wearing?” she demanded when she saw me.
The guests around us glanced at us and each other, sensing the tension.
“You know, I really thought that ‘mermaids’ as the wedding theme was a bit extreme. But then Jane showed me her invitation.”
An angry bride | Source: Midjourney
Elle’s face went through a range of emotions, finally settling on a strained calm.
“Em… I guess it was a mistake,” she said.
“Stop pretending,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “I’m your friend. It’s your wedding. What’s going on?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting around before finally meeting mine.
A close-up of a bride | Source: Midjourney
“Em,” she said slowly. “I was afraid that you’d outshine me. Everyone keeps talking about how perfect your wedding was and how beautiful you looked. I didn’t want to feel like I was in your shadow on my own day.”
I looked at her carefully, trying to process her words.
“My own mother kept talking about how wonderful your wedding was and that I should listen to you about everything,” she continued.
A close-up of a bride and her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Elle, you never had to compete with me. Your wedding is beautiful, and so are you. We’re friends, remember? I would never try to overshadow you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Em,” she choked. “I let my insecurities get the best of me.”
I pulled her into a hug.
Two women hugging | Source: Midjourney
“Everything is perfect,” I said. “You’ve planned your dream wedding, and it has all fallen into place. Now, come on. Let’s enjoy this day together, like we’ve always done.”
The tension melted away, and the awkwardness dissolved as we shared a genuine moment of reconciliation.
Grant and I sat at a table away from the crowd.
A table at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
“Are things okay with you and Elle?” Grant asked me.
“I think so,” I smiled. “But I think that there’s bigger things we need to discuss, too. I just want to make sure that we’re on the right page. That can wait until after her honeymoon.”
My husband took my hand and squeezed it gently.
A couple holding hands on a table | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
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