TIFU by giving my mom an accidental heart attack… with a stuffed raccoon.

I recently moved into my first apartment and was feeling kinda lonely, so I bought a very realistic taxidermy-style raccoon plush from Etsy. It was supposed to be funny. I named him “Ricky.” Ricky lives on my couch.

Last weekend, my mom came to visit unannounced while I was at work. She let herself in with the spare key I stupidly gave her.

Apparently, Ricky was facing the door. On the couch. Like he was waiting.

My mom thought it was a real raccoon. She screamed, dropped her phone, and called 911 from the neighbor’s house.

By the time I got the frantic voicemail (“THERE IS A RACCOON IN YOUR HOUSE OH MY GOD”), two cops had already entered and “neutralized” Ricky by throwing a laundry basket over him.

I now have to pick up my raccoon plush from the police station.

TL;DR: Bought a realistic raccoon plush. My mom thought it was real. Cops got involved. My emotional support raccoon is now in custody.