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So, I’m cooking, right? I don’t mean cooking as in being really cool, but cooking as I’m going to make something and eat it if it’s not too vile. I open the silverware drawer and there’s a possum in it.
Not a full-grown one, but not a baby either. When I tell people this, they ask, “Weren’t you scared?”
No, I wasn’t. I was … bemused seems to be the best word for my state of mind. You just don’t expect something to pop up like that.
I have dogs, so I have a dog door, so I understand how wildlife could get into the house … but … the silverware drawer?
When I finally get my wits about me (and this takes a while, always), I pull the drawer out and decide to take it out to the back yard and turn it loose. When I pull it out, the possum takes a jump over the edge.
VBD (Very Bad Idea). As I said, I have dogs and they are non-negotiable on the subject of what to do with a possum.
Kill it. Right now. Leave the attendant mess (eeeeewwwwww) for somebody else to clean up, which I do.
I then spend the rest of the day yanking all the drawers and objects out of the cabinet and subjecting them to the dishwasher or the clothes washing machine. And freaking out while waiting for this process to happen.
And that’s what I did for the fourth of July. How was yours?