Nobody. Absolutely nobody. Me at 3 AM, lit only by phone glow, pupils like a nocturnal gremlin: Googling whether raccoons qualify as tax dependents. The 3 AM brain doesn't do priorities — it does rabbit holes. By 3:30, I've got seventeen tabs open and a working theory.

The case for the raccoon: he lives on my property, I provide his food (indirectly, via the trash can — and trash service isn't free). I've named him. You don't name something you don't care about. The IRS has rules about this. Probably.

Now let's game out the audit. "Sir, you claimed a raccoon." "A dependent, yes." "Sir, raccoons are wildlife." "He has a name. It's Gerald." "You named the raccoon Gerald." "He responds to it. That's practically documentation." The auditor removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose — and any meeting that ends with the auditor pinching his nose is a meeting you dominated.