Okay, before someone says we need to take the raccoon stories off this thread, I have to tell about the super special snowflake raccoons in my little part of the world.
To commence: nothing bothered them. Nothing. My family had a garden in which we grew corn for the local dairy farmers (all of them related to us somehow). The raccoons would settle right down in the middle of the field and chow down no matter what Dad did.
He had the corn seed treated with something that wouldn't bother the cows but would put the crows and raccoons off. Nope, they developed a taste for it. He set out pie pans that would bang together whenever the wind blew, set out bright lights in the field, set the dog on them and left a radio going at all hours to frighten them away. The raccoons dismantled the pans, apparently bought sunglasses, made friends with the dog and enjoyed the oldies playing on the local channel. I had visions of them under the lights trying to get a tan.
When eating the corn got old, of course they went after the garbage. My parents made sure they bought the metal garbage cans that had some sort clipping device that was supposed to keep the lid on no matter what. These cans were pretty heavy to start and since we were stuffing in a week's worth of garbage, they were heavier still. It was all my brother and I could do to lug them to the street on trash night.
Not only were the raccoons able to tip the cans over, but once they were over, they fiddled with the locking device until they opened it and spread the trash around.
One tried to attack my car in broad daylight. I was on a tiny country lane and this critter came charging out of the brush growling at the car. I was afraid for my tires.
But nothing beat the Mama and Babies who lived next door when I first moved to the Big City. They lived in the roof of the neighbor's house (yeah, he was kind of like living next to Ellie Mae and the rest of the Clampetts). Mama would leave the house every night and come over to our yard, push the lids off the garbage and sort through it. I sat on the porch one night and watched her...all she needed was a little stringed shopping bag over her arm as she picked items out and examined them, then tossed them to one side and selected something new. And she and I looked at each other and I nodded to her as if we were shoppers in the supermarket choosing crisp apples.....funniest little critter.
I don't want one for a pet, not ever, but I have respect for the little monsters and can't help admiring them.