why me?

I've done my stint as a camp counselor, camped more than most people, swam in two oceans and the disgusting Mississippi river - I am not a wuss.

But I do have my limits.

There are not many things worse than finding a possum walking around on your porch - except maybe  a bevvy of bats in your shower, or a nest of vipers in your Craiglist couch or maybe a coven of witches in your pantry - there are a few worse things.

But not many.

We were sitting in the living room when I saw it - a little rat like tail sliding across the window by the front door. The kids were thrilled - never seen one in real life before, and here it was on our front stoop, just hanging out, looking for a snack.  I almost threw up.  I hate everything about possums; the naked whippy tails, the pink noses, the sharp teeth, the way they play dead and then jump up at the last minute, the way they will eat anything . . . anything

So after I watched him mosey a safe distance from the front door, I immediately turned on Rico, opened the door, and pushed him out. "Get rid of it."

"What?!" The man was standing there in his stocking feet with nothing but a burp rag to defend himself.  Ask me if I cared.

When I finally let him back into the house, I was still not convinced.

With good reason.

Tonight, after Punk's choir concert, we are pulling into the garage, when I see it again. The car has not even stopped moving when I am shouting at him to get out.  "YOU - go get that possum!"


By this point the vile critter is snaking his way through the spokes of Rico's bike, climbing up the shelves, and I am shouting. "Over there! GO GET HIM! He has been LIVING in our garage!"

"No way!  I have to call animal control! What if he has rabies?"

"He doesn't."

"How do YOU know?"

"Possums are immune to rabies."  I am pretty sure I read that somewhere, but even if I didn't, I still think that Rico should take this one for the team.

The kids and I jump out of the car and scramble into the house. Punk runs back out to watch the action. I peek out and see Rico armed with a plastic snow shovel. "How's it going?" I ask.

"Shut up!  This is not funny!  He wants to bite me."

Punk is prodding him along with a faded swim noodle.

Rico is shouting, "He's really nasty."

A few minutes of silence pass, before I hear, "Hey little possum, wanna go for a ride?"

I allow myself to crack the door open again.  Punk is laughing hysterically.  "Where is it?" I demand.

"Rico's giving him a ride."  I look into the driveway, and see the little rodent hitching a ride in the back of  Kooka's little red wagon. My knight in shining armor looks like a 5 year-old taking his favorite beanie baby for a midnight stroll.

He lets it off in the neighbor's driveway.  It makes a beeline for her garage.

Same neighbor lets her dog "visit" our front lawn every day.

Rico looks up and says, "You let your dog take a crap on my lawn .  . . I sick my possum on you."

Again, I am pretty sure possums are immune to rabies - but if I'm wrong, I feel very strongly that Joan should take this one for the team.


Anonymous said…
You should have taken pictures of Rico with the wagon. I'm with you, it's Joan's turn to take one for the team.

Melanie said…
Better than a skunk in your garage. That's all I will add....
Anonymous said…
That was Hysterical to read!