You walk into your living room in the middle of the night, flip on a light, see a possum sitting in your grandmother’s chair and don’t freak out.
Kid you not. A baby possum (*cough* technically opossum *cough*) was on the armrest of the chair with my gray tortie of a cat not two feet away just sitting on a side table watching it. Well, sitting in my mother’s purse like a chicken roosting in a nest. Maybe she was guarding my mother’s valuables? Oh well. I definitely imagine that she was thinking, “You are one ugly cat” as she swished her tail.
No f-ing idea how that possum got into the house. We have four cats, three of which were conspiciously absent in the face of a wild animal their size. -sigh-
Anyway, it was slow at first, but eventually hid in the corner and wouldn’t come out. My mother and I decided that maybe it would leave on its own, so we went back to bed. (I know, right? What were we thinking?)
This morning? Still there, only now half of the cat food bag had been emptied.
So good ol’ me had to trap it in one of our cat pens. Which, let me tell you, is not an easy task. The thing wouldn’t budge and I told my mother, “If I get attacked, I’m going to be pissed.” It was early, and I was grumpy. >_>
I managed it, somehow, after much prodding and cursing and “Don’t show your teeth to me, stupid! Get in the pen!”
I’m not sure about Animal Control’s policy, and my mother and I are a bit soft at heart. We’d rather trap it and release it back into the woods than have it killed. And if I’d called my dad, I guarantee he would have come over with his gun and ended up shooting multiple holes in the wall and possibly one of the house cats or dogs by mistake.
So I trapped it, stopped at a section of woods on my way to work this morning, and let it go.
I swear, that’s the last time I take a morning drive with a possum in the car!
(Sorry, I normally don’t make this sort of post, but this was too good a tale to pass up!)