Beasts

It’s 104 degrees. It is very warm. It is too warm to walk the dog it is by extension, too warm to go to the park. I didn’t even have to say anything to Dogger, sh was like “You know, I understand. I think I’ll just stay splayed out on the floor here and you do whatever you need to do”. As to the splaying, I would have thought that linoleum would be cooler for doggy splaying than wood but apparently, the wood is the cooler of the two surfaces. Also, The Kitty owns the kitchen and I’m pretty sure that Dogger has just learned that the wood is the safer alternative. It’s cool because she keeps hers.

Before work this morning I wanted to get something out of my car, I didn’t get it out because I had pulled the car too far forward and so I couldn’t open the passenger door all the way. Sucks being my green tea. I was going to get my keys and reposition the car but as I was going back in the house I saw something in my recycling bin.

I screamed.

Okay, I shrieked, it was early, there was no reason to alarm the neighborhood over a rogue possum. I was horrified, and I really believe my hysterical reaction was totally valid because Oh-My-Gawd-There-Is-A-Possum-In-My-Recycling but I doubt the cops would understand. I had this meltdown because a possum the size of the three week old kitten was hissing at me. It surprised me! It could have been a rat! Or a huge spider! Or a freaky human/turtle hybrid! Did I tell you I saw a very big snapping turtle on the beach on day? It wasn’t supposed to be there. There is snapping turtle world and there is people world and I’m pretty sure that we are supposed to use the beach separately. I bet there is even a schedule sheet somewhere with snapping turtle beach times clearly marked on the schedule and this was clearly a people time - and it hissed at me too.

It was a hissing flashback! I wasn’t over reacting to the possum, it was a flashback! Even very small possums have teeth and nasty claws. And the hissing.

I had to go to work!

So, time was passing and the creature was hissing at me and I didn’t want mama possum to get me with my back turned, so I went to work. I figured if baby possum got himself in there, baby possum could get himself out. Son had claws. Far be it from me to mess with the natural order of things. And the hissing was scary.

Went to work. Worked. Worked. Worked.

Came Home. Hot, hot, hot. Whine.


The baby possum was still there . “Shit”. I said. And then I read it the riot act about sticking around. And then when it still didn’t get the message, I pulled the bin out and tipped it over. I thought “Ah Ha!” and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And called my Dad.

...Who told me to call animal control. I was afraid they would give me a ticket for knowingly leaving the baby beasty in the bin all day. I thought about lying to them and telling them that it was in fact, a three-week-old kitten. It was easier to tip the bin over and hope for the beast, best. They really do play possum. I felt totally like a not very bright predator. I also shrieked again, because it looked like I killed it. And then when it was not dead, I lectured it, it of course, pretended to die of boredom. Asshole.