I wake up, stretch, walk to the back door. The dog wakes up, joins me in a stetch, heads to the back door with me. He wants out for his morning constitutional. This is a ritual for us.

I crack open the door…and the dog unexpectedly shifts into Full Jack Russell Crazy Mode, bolting out of the small opening, shooting for the deck.

Suddenly a gray blur jumps off the deck, into the tree, and heads straight up.

Uh oh.

The gray blur is a raccoon. Generations of breeding kick in for the Jack Russell, who circles the tree at top speed and barks and jumps and runs and harasses.

The raccoon is at least 10 feet up. That’s too close for the dog, who is out of his howling mind. He uses the tree as a shield to prevent me from capturing him, as he shatters the morning calm.

It’s 6:30 a.m. I have neighbors. This is not good.

It takes a while, but I finally trick the dog, feigning one way and diving the other, catching him just barely by his back legs as he tries to spring past me and reining him in. He is pissed off, squirming and still barking and snapping at the raccoon even as I wrap him up.

We go inside, where the dog continues to bark and jump 4 feet straight up while refusing to move from the glass back door. He can see the raccoon. The raccoon can see him. This is a standoff.

30 minutes later…same thing.

45 minutes later…same thing. Christ, where is the ‘off’ switch on this dog? I leave for work.

The raccoon was gone when I got home. The dog appeared no worse for wear.