Possum family

Mission Im-possum-ble

If you grew up with Disney, like I did, possums were the cutest thing ever!

Bambi Possum

When we moved to possum country, my image of them changed. We started seeing them on the side of the road, and they were flat enough, we knew they weren’t just playing possum. We even saw one waddling down the street on her own Sunday morning walk of shame. Their noses are pointy, their teeth are sharp, and their tails have just enough hairs on them to make them really yucky looking. Over the past few years, my mental picture of possums changed to something like this:


Needless to say, I was less than happy when Peanut brought me….this:


Even in the dark you can see its teeth. Shoot! It looks dead. But those teeth look awfully sharp. Charlie’s out of town, so I’m on my own to decide what to do with it. And then actually do what I decide. This is going to involve touching the possum. Did you see those teeth? I know, I’ll post this picture to Facebook, and see if it’s still there when I come back.

Oh, my gosh! Um. It moved. I’m so glad I didn’t pick it up by its tail. That would have left those teeth open to bite me. Wait, I know, the dogs must have moved it. Except they’re now all inside with me. Hmm. Now what? I look a little closer, and it’s actually breathing. I should have known Peanut would bring me a critter she thought needed help. She doesn’t usually bring me dead presents. I guess that whole “playing possum” thing is real.

MovedNow that I know it’s alive, all pictures will be taken through the window. Because those teeth are an active threat. As she starts coming out of her daze and looking around, she really pretty cute. And now that her mouth is closed, the teeth aren’t nearly as threatening.

If I go out to check on her, she might jump on me and attack my face. But it’s cold and raining. I could bring her a towel and some food. That would help her feel better. But the towel will just get wet. I know, I’ll pull something over her for shelter. Like a table. Hmm. The patio table is too big. The kids’ tables are too small. I know, the plastic patio table would be just right, and it’s easy to move.

I grab a towel and find a jar lid to put food in. A little dog kibble with an egg on top should do the trick. I’ll cover her up, give her the food, and bring the table out so she doesn’t get too wet. Maybe if I’m nice to her, and feed her, she’ll come back and visit. We could have a possum pet. That would be pretty cool! Because she really is pretty darn cute.

But when I get to the back door, she’s up and moving. I don’t want to scare her by opening the door. (I also don’t want to find I’ve misjudged her, and have her run into the house and terrorize us all.) I guess I’ll watch and see what she does.


Now I’m sad. She waddled off into the night. I tried to see which way she went, but she disappeared. I put the food out, anyway. She might come back hungry.