Sleep With One Eye Open
Tonight was the annual church Fall Festival. I didn't go. Tomorrow is trick-or-treat and I absolutely do not have the social or kinetic stamina for both events. The kids, however, bathe daily in a wide variety of abundant stamina. So, I dropped them off at church and went home to sit in quiet for an hour. At 8:00 I slung my purse onto my shoulder, crammed my keys into my pocket and turned to go out the sliding glass door. There on the porch, three feet away from me, was an opossum. Well, that explains a lot.
Now don’t try to convince me that these plague demons are useful because they eat a bazillion ticks every year, or they spin gold from straw, or whatever wives-tale you’re peddling to glorify their existence. It’s a pest, plain and simple. No amount of tick-eating justifies the damage these greasy, waddling teeth cause on homesteads.
Anyway, as I was about to leave the house, I saw this ROUS saunter up to the cat food bowl on my back porch. I froze for a few seconds, mentally tallying my options, simultaneously noting that three of our cats were just standing there, unfazed, watching this trespasser waddle up like The Godfather. Option 1) 9mm - probably messy, definitely loud and we have new neighbors we haven't formally met yet; option 2) pellet gun - wait, where the heck is the pellet gun? Option 3) punt the plague demon back to hell.
I didn't think long about this. I just opened the door and yelled at the greasy invader, "Just who do you think you are? Get out of here!"
Can opossums scamper? I've never seen one hurry. This one certainly wasn't in a rush. It looked over its shoulder and flipped me the bird, flashing a grimace of more needly teeth than any animal has a right to possess, as it reached the edge of the porch.
The audacity!
It had nowhere to go unless it was willing to plummet three feet to the ground. So, I thought I would help it make up its mind. Without much room for a running start, and unwilling to injure myself by kicking the railing, I ended up swiftly shoving the marsupial shark off the porch with my foot. This merely offended it. I could hear it cussing from the cobweb-infested darkness beneath me. I ran inside in search of the pellet gun. I even called Jonathan but there was no answer. What I did manage to find was a flashlight. So, I chased it into the woods, yelling at it. I hope I hurt its feelings, at least.
While Jesus and I are in a good place, I’m not eager to meet him just yet. Now I’m afraid it’s going to come back with its henchmen when I least expect it and I’m going to get a complimentary pair of cement shoes and a nice trip to the river.
