Yes, the little dogs have been worrying a place at the end of the deck for several days now, culminating in an irritating yapfest earlier this evening. I figured it was a possum or something. Couldn’t be a cat, it was too quiet over there when the dogs were racing around sniffing and barking. I well remember the hiss that the stupid little black cat could utter.
Sure enough, as I was locking the back door for the night, I flicked on the porchlight just to see what I could see. What I saw was Mrs. O. Possum and the entire clan of little possum-lings clutching her fur, out for their evening constitutional.
Her expression, if possums can have expression, was one of slight bewilderment and mild confusion. Not that there is anything unusual about that kind of expression for a possum, but she looked as if she hadn’t any clue how she got on my back porch with no fewer than nine ugly little carbon copies of her gripping her pelt. She was panting a little, maybe because she sensed the air conditioning inside in defiance of the high humidity and heat of the Gulf Coast night. Perhaps she was plotting on how to buy a minivan to tote her brood rather than doing it the old-fashioned way. Who knows what goings-on are going on in the mind of a possum. If anything.
I will need a larger trap than I have to relocate the entire family to the Soderberg Marsupial Trade School and Re-education camp. I’ll have to see if they have a “loaner”.
Until then, I’ll have to staple my dogs to the tree in back.