All I wanted to do was sneak by Stella and try to use food against her; a form of trickery used to entice her into interacting with Chief.

She was hovering at the inside staircase and, not wanting to disturb her, I thought I’d ninja my way downstairs using the other set of stairs. Only, when I tried to go in the garage and have Chiefy follow me (so Tam could talk Stella into coming into the kitchen), Chiefy wouldn’t come with me. He hovered at the top step and stopped. He gave me a look that said, “No fucking way, crazy lady.”

It was only when I saw the following when I realized that he was really saying “Kate, something is not right. There is a critter in my food bin. And it looks like it might want to kill you.”

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!!!

I hopped back into the house and tried to catch my breath.

There’s a fucking possum in Chief’s food! A POSSUM!! Oh my god, Mom, what do we do?!

Remember that time I talked about how I do not possess grace under fire? Yeahhhhh.

My first instinct was to find the camera while Tam poked her head out the door, armed with the swiffer. “Oy!” she yelled and then slammed the door.

I burst into laughter while she walked back into the kitchen, trying to think of what to do.

Oy? That’s your go-to?! I don’t think possums speak Yiddish!

I could not stop laughing.

But then we got serious: What the fuck do we do?!

I was against calling animal/critter control because I am under the assumption that they come to get the animal and then kill it. I swear to the heavens that the “technician” would just tell me they weren’t going to kill it but once they take it away, they totally do kill it. That’s not okay with me. I may not want it in my dog’s food bin and so close to the entrance to my home, but I do want it to be able to find its babies and significant other and live a long, healthy life in the wild.

I’m that person that cried when I ran over a squirrel on accident. I shooed a giant-ass spider out of my room and into the cool October air using a page I ripped out of Cosmo magazine because I couldn’t bring myself to kill it. I just can’t do it. I can’t bear the thought of that little so-ugly-it’s-cute creature being put to death just because it was hunting for food.

That’s like killing Aladdin.

Not everyone can be so lucky as to marry a princess in Agrabah.

So, Tam called our old neighbor, a close family friend who came to the rescue all the other times we had weird animal issues. You know, like that time we came home from London the first time to find a duck was trapped in our chimney. We tried her first suggestion: make a lot of noise. Tam banged some pots and pans together while I let Nikki talk me into contacting Animal Control because she told me that her husband said Animal Control doesn’t kill the animals they capture.

The local office was closed and the lady answering the 1-800 number calls wanted to take my information to have a “technician” call me in the morning. I was like, “Uhm, lady, I don’t want this possum in my garage with my dog’s food all night long. I’ll figure something else out. I’ll just wing it. Thanks anyway.”

I poked my head out one more time.

This little critter had to go.

That’s when shit got real.

We both put boots on, zipped ourselves into our coats and found the thickest gloves we could find.  Tam, armed with a broom this time, tried to ninja herself past the possum and sneak attack by putting the lid to the food bin back on.  It didn’t work out as planned.  I stood, like a pansy, at the door, narrating the possum’s thoughts out loud. You know, like that’s really helpful. But when the possum showed his scary teeth and started hissing, I shut the door and whined. I opened the door again and watched as Tam tried again to put the top on.

Success!!

With the lid safely on the bin, we could begin the move down the driveway. We carried the bin filled with dog food and possum all the way down the driveway and across the street, to a nice snow bank near a bundle of trees.  The plan was that we would dump the food and the possum out of the bin and then run back towards the house.  Things went according to plan in the sense that I ran like hell through the puddles of melted snow back to the house. But I realized that Tam was still back there, with the bin of food, the snow bank and the possum.  A moment later, I saw her walking towards me with the empty bin in hand.  She had surrendered the lid and the scoop used to measure Chief’s food to the possum.

We’re gonna go see if the possum has decided to give us the lid back.

Wish us luck!

Advertisements