photo by Jeff Jones via stock.xchng

For the past couple of weeks we’ve had some visitors on the patio in the form of cute little gray possums. Every night the Samdog starts going apeshit and we know there’s a little Petey Possum out there. They’ll hang around one place as long as there is food and water readily available, and apparently they got addicted to our gourmet Boots & Barkley cat food. Unfortunately the joke’s on them, because everyone knows that Boots & Barkley is the generic Target brand. Suckas!

Look, I don’t pay $6 a bag for this fancy cat food to have it eaten up by cute giant mice of the marsupial family. Also, they’re hanging out in our attic, which is fun and all with the midnight noises, but I clean up enough poop, thankyouverymuch. Also, ew.

So after some intense brainstorming and rigorous training, we put together a possum catching team consisting of my husband (The Sheriff), and the Samdog (now known as Deputy Samdog). I remained the beauty of the operation, choosing to stand by and look pretty with my unwashed hair and running shorts.

I now take you on a trip to the exhilarating and danger filled adventure of The Sheriff, The Deputy, and the Petey Possum Gang.

After a few days of casing Petey’s routine, we made our move. The Sheriff opened the gates (or the sliding door), and unleashed the Deputy on the poor, unsuspecting possum. Petey faked left. The Deputy went right. The two streaked through the town known as Backyard and finally the Petey knew he was caught. He was stunned into oblivion — literally stunned! — and the Deputy was uncertain as to what to do with him in his state of clever stratagem.

Luckily the Sheriff, known to be a quick on the draw and not in his first rodeo, was wise to the Petey’s ways and scooped him up in a bucket formerly used for sidewalk chalk. Nothing too good for this vermin. At this time I was roused from my perch on the bed checking Facebook and sipping lemonade to aid in the task of locating the Sherriff’s shirt tails and trousers so he could take that possum to justice. Or to the local park.

Problem solved. The Outlaw Petey was caught and disposed of.

Until the next night. The Deputy alerted us that we had another visitor in Backyard, and he was not welcome. Could it be? The same outlaw had returned? ‘Twas only but a mile he was taken and set free, but a mile for a little possum? Impossible! Perhaps his gang had come to seek revenge.

The Sheriff once again called upon the Deputy’s skills, and the Deputy, he didn’t disappoint. A short chase through Backyard had the new outlaw playing possum, and again the Deputy scratched his ear and licked his butt at the suddenly rigid fellow, who was this time scooped into an old, sunbleached Pampers box, the lid precariously closed to his glassy, beady eyes.

This  time the Sheriff rode further with the cat food stealing criminal, dropping him at a jailhouse (or another local park) a few miles away to carry out his sentence. If this was the same possum, there was no way he could make his way back, and why would he want to? This neighborhood of far nicer houses surely carried Purina One for their feline friends, not that generic crap.

Saturday night. The air was still. The house was quiet. or at least I assume it was because I was dead asleep by 10 pm. ¬†Anyway, the reports as given to me the next day by the Sheriff were that yet another Outlaw dared show his beady face in Backyard. He had that look of the Petey Possum Gang written all over him: beady eyes, dirty, matted fur, cute little round ears…disgusting.

By this time the Sheriff and the Deputy had perfected their angle. The Sheriff sat idly by while his Deputy merely trotted over the the possum, looked him in the eyes, and with a single, “Boo!” the gang member was on the ground. The Sheriff, never one for contentment and fresh out of Pampers boxes, found a new means of confinement in the form of a gigantic Costco sized pretzel bin that had been sitting empty in the garage, just waiting for the perfect use to call upon it. Well say no more, gigantic pretzel bin. Your time has come.

The Sheriff made another delivery to Purina Town, dropping the Outlaw at a four way stop to avoid the local henchmen (aka Austin Police Department) hanging at the park. I know not what is in store for the rest of Petey’s gang, but as long as we have the Sheriff, the Deputy, and that giant Costco sized pretzel bin, odds are they’re gonna get caught and relocated to a place with nicer attics and food.

But for now, the Sheriff and the Deputy hang their hats, take in the comfort of their beds, and enjoy their evening treats of a bone for the Deputy and Oreos for the Sheriff. And I? I still sit here looking pretty in my running shorts and unwashed hair, awaiting the next adventure.


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  1. Good job! What a team, maybe we should sign them up for the Tough Mudder. It is nice to know that there is law and order in Possumtown when I visit. What a cute story!

  2. Eeeeeew! Do you know how evil those things are? In the Rio Grande Valley, they call them resaca rats. Big-ass, mean and scary rats with pointy teeth. Geesus!

  3. Funny and ICK! I really am not an animal person. Meanwhile, we’ve had a recurring visitor that i had to look up. Was sort of beaver-looking but wasn’t a beaver. Now I can’t remember the name!

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