O Possum, Where Art Thou?

Yeah, it's still me. Don't worry though, Red will be back soon.

So last night about 10 p.m., we had a visitor at our house. My wife's dog (who I fondly refer to as Satan), was barking uncontrollably from his pen in the carport. Why is his pen in the carport you ask? Because my wife doesn't believe dogs were made to live in the elements (too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, too whatever). So our car is in the elements and the dog is in the carport. So #1 son (birth order - not favortism - get over it #2 and #3.), heads out to see what the commotion is. He yells back in the door, "Possum." My wife jumps up because a few nights ago, when Satan was out doing his nightly business, he got into an altercation with a possum and my wife thought he was going to be eaten alive. After much screaming, crying and running around, we finally got Satan on his leash and back in his cage without him being eaten by the possum. Well evidently possums hold grudges. Possum momma returned last night and brought her young 'ens with her. So when my wife and #2 son jumped up and ran outside, #1 son left the door open and a little possum ran into the house and under the china cabinet. Hilarity ensued. My two teenage sons (thankfully #3 was already asleep) ran around like 6-year-old little girls screaming and jumping on furniture. We couldn't leave the thing in the house, so we had to come up with a plan to get it out from under the china cabinet and out of the house without breaking anything. #1 son grabbed a five-gallon bucket from outside and threw a piece of bologna on the floor. I don't know if he was expecting the possum to come out, eat the bologna, say thank you and hop into the bucket or what, but that plan didn't seem to be working. We decided on a broom and flip down dustpan. #2 son got down on the ground to see where the possum was while #1 son moved the broom back and forth under the china cabinet while I held the dust pan at the ready. Finally the little guy came out scared to death and got under a chair. The boys wrangled him into the dustpan, and we dumped him in the five-gallon bucket. We had captured the possum. Then around midnight, we had to go release him into the wild. I'm hoping none of the neighbors saw us.

No possums were hurt in the making of this blog.