Marsupial b*****ds!
As I sit here typing at 0152 local, I’m waiting for two young, rat-sized opossum to buck up and crawl out from under my kitchen stove so I can curl them outside with the broom leaning to my side.
Yes, we went out to see a movie (appropriately enough to this tale, “The Omen”) and returned to my son’s expansive tale of how our livestock Copper captured a “white-headed rat” and released it. Apparently the dog forgot to renew her varmint-hunting permit and had to practice catch-and-release.
Within a half-hour of our return and rapt attention to the account, we heard a rustling and rattling in the kitchen. Lo and behold, it was George Jones. Or, at least, an eight-inch replica of him in a fur coat and with a pink rattail.
Yes, it was a baby opossum (to us Yanks, possum) and it ran back behind the cabinets.
We left the back door open, and the possum finally got the message and left.
At 0125, we heard a cross between hissing and moaning as Copper ran into the kitchen. The baby’s siblings were in a huddle and showing their needle-ly little teeth. I captured one in my office wastebasket and relatively gently slid it outside, earning a possum dirty look.
As of this writing (0201 local), possum three and possum four are, of course, playing possum under the stove.
I might get to sleep before sunrise.
Yes, we went out to see a movie (appropriately enough to this tale, “The Omen”) and returned to my son’s expansive tale of how our livestock Copper captured a “white-headed rat” and released it. Apparently the dog forgot to renew her varmint-hunting permit and had to practice catch-and-release.
Within a half-hour of our return and rapt attention to the account, we heard a rustling and rattling in the kitchen. Lo and behold, it was George Jones. Or, at least, an eight-inch replica of him in a fur coat and with a pink rattail.
Yes, it was a baby opossum (to us Yanks, possum) and it ran back behind the cabinets.
We left the back door open, and the possum finally got the message and left.
At 0125, we heard a cross between hissing and moaning as Copper ran into the kitchen. The baby’s siblings were in a huddle and showing their needle-ly little teeth. I captured one in my office wastebasket and relatively gently slid it outside, earning a possum dirty look.
As of this writing (0201 local), possum three and possum four are, of course, playing possum under the stove.
I might get to sleep before sunrise.
posted by Frontier Editor at 02:05
17 Comments:
We call them possums here too.
If you kill the little bastard, your knighthood is secure.
They're not very popular in this country.
Worse than killing them - I evicted them without getting a warrant and waiting 30 days ;^D
good lord, this account made me realize how much of a wuss i am. would i have called the firemen? would i have called pest control? would i have simply moved out? to borrow a comment from someone i admire, "if it can't make it's own sandwich and wipe it's own ass, it can't stay here."
We don't get those beasts over here, thank god. They sound scary. Glad to see you dealt with the problem like a man though. Self-reliance, that's the kind of quality we're after.
It is now 0408 local, and I believe that possum no. 4 has left. The only thing scary is looking at a brace of George Jones clones in your kitchen and hoping they haven't found the liquor stash.
Kind of like having a brother-in-law over, I suppose.
I'm sorry but your tale of woe caused me to laugh. I've had dealings with possums here before and I've always come out the loser.
When we first moved here two years ago, we kept finding baby possums in our back yard. My father caught one and wanted to take it home. By the tail. It's little needle teeth were what finally made him drop it.
Good morning . . . . ugh.
Was up til after 5 this morning - found a number 5 and gave it the boot. So, before any PETA types zero in on me, no possum were harmed in the making of this thread.
I think I found the entry point - someone or something broke a small window to our basement.
So sorry you didn't get any sleep. Hope you can at least find some time today to steal a nap or twenty.
jromer: you are excluding a lot of grown, mature adults with that rule.
Fronty: I had possum troubles too. They just want a place to live...poor disgusting little things. Do not leave the door open, they will not get the message that you want them to exit, they will just bring more possums to the party.
Yay! A possum party! Does that mean we all get to play dead?
In North East Hampshire, we are plagued by toryvoters. The little buggers get everywhere, and are surprisingly difficult to eliminate, given their very low intelligence.
5am, my god. How do you function?
Vicus, you cannot question the intelligence of a species without basing yourself on research or at least on a slew of unreliable tests.
Tories are a species? I thought they were just a mutation.
As for my predicament, it just goes to show that children - no matter what species - are capable of keeping th eadults up all night
And for functioning with three hours' sleep, it's like Ringo Starr once said: "It don't come easy - - you know it don't come easy."
Carmenzta - the acid test, the buggers don't agree with me.
Announcing a new remake of "The Omega."
Vicus, you have a potential blockbuster here, what with Tories and opossum coming out at night, you isolated and armed only with searchlights, a broom and Edmund Burke's writings. At least you'd have a chance to score with Rosalind Cash.
"The Omega Man"
suffering from fat fingered keyboarding, sorry.
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