I have one simple rule around our house: If you don’t pay rent and aren’t a member of our family, you can’t live with us. We’ll do our best to evict you. This applies to all bugs and, for a couple months, a pesky possum in our garage.
My younger son spotted the little varmint one night in our backyard, resulting in it going through our open side garage door and hiding in the corner. The next day I watched it scurry through our front yard and hightail it under our next door neighbors’ fence. After I e-mailed them to warn them, Jim H. replied that he saw it going back to our side of the barrier.
“Tag, you’re it,” he wrote. Was that a chuckle squeezing through the bandwidth?
Ever since then, I set speed records getting into and out of my car in the garage. I did not want to come face to pointy face with that creature. Finally, I saw the marsupial running on the rafters one night, and that was enough. No pay, no stay!
My pal Kelly K. said she she could get her father’s trap. So last Saturday night, she and her husband, Jay, set it up with a can of tuna as the bait. Apparently, the creepy critter wasn’t hungry until last night or maybe it was busy ringing in the new year with friends in the ’hood. But this morning when I checked the trap . . . bingo, baby! There it was looking very dejected. Sorry, but I was not sorry.
I texted Kelly that the possum finally had landed. She and her son Mason (aka the icky-animal wrangler) came over to pick up the cage (not only didn’t I go near the trap, but I used my Nikon 70-200mm lens to take photos. Ick!). Then they were nice enough to release our unwanted guest into the woods far from our home.
Good riddance! A possum is not awesome!