Regina handles wildlife management at our house, and she let me down in that department not long ago.
It all started one night about bedtime. When I stepped out of the shower, there was a terrible commotion coming from the garage.
Everything was scattered when I finally got out there. Stuff that is usually stacked neatly on shelves was strewn across the floor and atop cars with things spilling out of their containers.
Sweaty and visibly flustered, Regina was holding a heavy-duty push broom. She said a small possum darted out from under her car as she was going to lock the utility room door.
She admonished me for not coming to check on her while she flayed at the possum with the broom and displaced everything in the garage and utility room.
My explanation about taking a shower and not hearing anything didn’t mollify her much, but she seemed optimistic that the possum had left the premises during her attack.
She had hit the button to open the garage doors and had been coercing the intruder to leave by swinging at it with the broom and chasing it with the leaf blower going full blast.
Admitting that she didn’t actually see the possum vacate the garage, Regina said there was no way it would not have seized the opportunity to escape through the open doors.
We were both a little skittish for a few days about going into the garage and utility room, but there were no indications that the possum was still around.
But the possum had apparently been, well, playing possum.
When Regina was away at a book club meeting a few nights later, I came home from the store and went to the utility room to put some beverages in the outside refrigerator.
My hands were full, and I had to put the carton of drinks on the floor to open the refrigerator. When I did, the possum raised up on its back legs in the trash can
With me bent over to put the drinks down and the possum reared up in the trash can, our faces were just inches apart.
The possum hissed, and I squealed as I sprinted out the utility room door to the yard.
There was a lot of thumping and crashing in the garage and utility room as I got out of there and the possum repositioned itself for an extended stay at our house.
I texted Regina to inform her of the situation and let her know that I would probably be moving to a hotel.
This whole episode was especially disappointing since Regina had effectively addressed a similar incident a while back.
I was taking the trash out one night when a huge possum started hissing at me from a back yard flower bed. I rushed into the house to get my .410 shotgun.
When Regina discovered what was going on, she walked into the yard in her shorts and flipflops, took off one of the shoes and slapped the possum on the head with it.
The animal skittered into the dark cowering and shrieking, and we never saw it again.
During the latest possum encounter, though, she had to call some animal control people to get the varmint out of the garage.
This all happened a few weeks ago. We have moved to a new home since then, maybe partially because of the possum situation.
We have not seen any possums at the new place, and I’m frankly a little concerned now about Regina’s abilities to deal with that crisis if we do.
REPRINTED FROM THE NATCHITOCHES TIMES