I was inspired by recent posts from the..well… inspirational Erin Margolin in her pleas for compassion and empathy for the homeless.  So we have adopted/sponsored someone.

Here’s what happened.

It was a few days ago shortly before noon — in broad daylight — when Eric and I drove upon a strange site in the street in front of our central Houston home.  Weaving toward us, eyes glazed and fixed, feet stumbling, came a possum.  Not just any possum, but a big, scraggly, ugly possum.  A possum that looked like an aged, overgrown rat sick with radiation poisoning and male pattern baldness.  Except I kind of think they all look that way.  Anyway, an ugly possum.

Not a photo of our crackhead possum. But I googled crackhead possum and found a blog with this picture. *Fate*

This possum was confused.  Possums, or “opossums” as those with more class than me call them, are nocturnal creatures.  Either this one suffered from jet lag [having just landed on a direct flight from Mumbai, possibly?], or it had mistaken day for night.

“Poor possum.  He needs to go home and go to bed.  Do you think there is something wrong with him?” I asked.  I popped a handful of macadamia nuts into my mouth and concentrated on their salty yumminess.

“Maybe she doesn’t have a home,” Eric said.

“Maybe he did have a home, but his possum wife kicked him out because he never shut any cabinets,” I said, nodding my head.

“Maybe her possum husband booted her azz because she writes a blog about his fictitious gender confusion issues and underpants,” Eric suggested, his eyebrows arched into points.

“Or maybe he’s on crack, and he’s jacking the neighborhood cars for loose change,” I said.  {We live in a nice neighborhood, but this has happened to our cars (from humans, as far as we can tell, although possums could be the culprits, I now realized) twice recently, so it’s not as far-fetched as it sounds.}

So we carefully dodged said possum and pulled into our driveway.  But we couldn’t get the possum out of our minds.  Later that day, Eric, ever the softie/animal lover, took a bowl of dog food out into our front yard.  *Run, possum, run before it’s too late!! I thought. *  The possum stumbled drunkenly to the bowl and had a meal.  When it was done, Eric moved the dog food bowl to the backyard.  Ostensibly, our 200 pounds of doggies live there, but they are far too spoiled to eat outside, so the possum could dine in peace.

That night, we heard noises out back.  Now, it is not unusual for possums to visit our backyard at night.  When the moon is bright, we can even see them running along the power line above our back fence, lumbering shadows, improbable acrobats.  We also hear frogs by the millions fornicating singing in our three leaking pits ponds.  Then there’s the train whistles, the planes, and the sirens.  Oh, and the barking of the neighbor’s dogs, too.  It’s not a quiet place.

Tonight, though, tonight the noise was different.

Scritch scritch scritch.

“What’s that?” I whispered.  My stomach twisted with nerves.  I moved closer to Eric, my nose practically under his armpit, which gave me a comforting whiff of Irish Spring body wash.

Scritch-scritch-scritch-scritch, the sound again, but faster.  Something was scratching the the back wall of our bedroom.  Something possibly out of a Stephen King movie, or worse.  Something that would drag us from our beds and eat our brains, leaving behind only the empty skulls and the words “juicy couture” scrawled in our blood across our deck.  I dived in for another much-needed huff of Irish Spring.

“I think our crackhead friend is trying to move in,” Eric said.

It took me a breathless moment, but I realized he meant the possum.  “IN, in?  Can he get in?”

“No, she won’t make it.  I’ll let the dogs out to chase her off.”

“NO!  You fed him, we can’t let the dogs out there.  They’ll kill him.”  {I should have seen THIS coming.}

We debated, but in the end, we decided to leave it alone.  I think this is where Erin’s influence held sway with us.

Our casa es su casa.  Feliz navidad, poco opossum.

It may not be much, but we are teaching compassion and empathy at our house one little ole crackhead possum at a time, room and board included.


p.s. As of the writing of this blog, Eric is at a Texans football game and there is a scritch-scritching on the back wall again.  I sure as hell hope it’s the crackhead possum.

p.p.s. Erin recommends visiting the Dollar Tree or other local dollar store and stocking up on pre-packaged food, so that when you encounter someone that needs a meal, you have a small stash in your car to offer.  She rocks.  I think you should do what she says.  Or I’ll sic’ our possum on you.

Tagged with →  
Share →

25 Responses to Crackhead possum moves into our place.

  1. Heidi Dorey says:

    I love your silent gender fight.

    What’s the crackhead’s name?
    Or is it just Crackhead?

  2. Love the he/she back n forth. Nice touch to a fun post. So glad it’s your opossum (feeling classy) and not mine. Had mole issues in our yard when we lived in rural Ohio. It was really fun to be just walking across the yard and almost break your ankle stumbling into one of the many mole holes. We weren’t compassionate or even nice though. Poured mole poison in every hole, hoping to kill the little feller. He just made more holes, but finally the trail of holes led to our neighbor’s yard and it became their problem. Yeah!


    • Pamela says:

      Some day I will tell the story of all the horrible things Eric does to kill the frogs in our back yard. Oh my, you will appreciate the awfulness, ha ha.

      • LBDDiareis says:

        Uh oh – I bet it is like what Leland does… with hands and boots… yuck. I do NOT watch, listen or plan on being anywhere in the vicinity when he is frog hunting.

  3. We actually have a skunk that lives in our backyard. She has had babies and can be seen walking with her little ones up and down the block. I always know when she is out and about because she stinks up the whole neighborhood. The babies are adorable and, if I wasn’t terrified of the stench they give off, I would take one in. According to my husband, I have a bad habit of taking in strays. I just look at him when he says this because I took his stray butt in too. 😉

  4. Heidi Milton says:

    Hahahahhahahah!! We’ve got scritching going on around here, too, but I think ours is of the squirrel variety… wonder if ours is a crackhead, too? By the way, has the gender of the crackhead possum been determined?? 😉

  5. Irene says:

    Um, if you see a possum in the daylight, swaggering around like it’s had one too many from the pub, it’s probably sick.

    I’m a softy as well. I’ll give a home to anything with beady eyes, fur and paws. No, sorry, Eric has a home already.

  6. Grace says:

    Beautifully written and hilarious. I am bowing to you as I sit in freeze-my-ass-off Atlanta fending off craziness from my ex, who may or may not actually be my ex. In other words, thanks for the laugh. I needed it.

  7. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Erin Margolin, PostDivorceCoach. PostDivorceCoach said: RT @PamelotH: Crackhead possum moves in2 R backyard: http://bit.ly/fnWNyb #urbanjungle <Don't feed the animals! DUH! […]

  8. Ally says:

    “…but a big, scraggly, ugly possum. A possum that looked like an aged, overgrown rat sick with radiation poisoning and male pattern baldness” – IS THERE ANY OTHER KIND? There are few other creatures on the earth that can compare to that kind of ugliness. That said, I’m a huge animal softie – my friend had a possum (I’m not classy enough to engage the O) get it’s foot tangled in the net of a small kids soccer goal under her deck in her back yard. While her husband was out of town, of course. So I drug my husband over to “save” it, since animal control will only come out for “domestic” animals and we couldn’t convince them it was a pet. Unfortunately, Mr. Possum was having none of our kindness, and with all his teeth gnashing and snarling, the best we could do is throw a box over him, cut the net around it, and box that little darling up to be dealt with by the wildlife rescue facility. THEY would pick him up from the animal control office only if I dropped him off there. Sigh. Yes, I took a boxed possum to the animal control facility. Yes, I prayed he would not chew through the box and attack me as I drove. He lived a very long and happy life in my imaginary world.

  9. Eric Hutchins says:

    There is something about them that is makes me want to protect them. They look kind of pitiful even if the are all the OTHER things that are not very good. They are almost so ugly that they are really cute.

    • Pamela says:

      You’re a soft touch, honey.

    • LBDDiareis says:

      NO Eric. They are NOT “almost so ugly that they are really cute.” They are so ugly that they are really ugly. And creepy. And scary when they stagger around the back yard going, “My eyes! My eyes! I can’t see!” If I was Annie Oakley, there would be far less of them cluttering up the world.

  10. Kimberly says:

    Love the conversation between you and your husband…made me laugh out loud (and made my children roll their eyes at me – oh, joy!). And I agree…possum’s are about the ugliest creatures on the Earth (well, except maybe for naked mole rats).

  11. LBDDiareis says:

    And I can top that possum story with the skunk who fell through the insulation in the ceiling in the living room at 1 a.m. (I was up reading) when we were changing out the ceiling sheetrock. You NEVER saw anyone move as fast as I did that night. Unlike Eric, I was excessively curious about the skirtching noise & followed the noise with my eyes to that fateful corner… I mean who the heck expects a skunk to fall thru the ceiling? I saw that stripe & zip I was gone before he/she hit the floor. Well, then again, there was the morning I got up and found a present on the bathroom floor – of the poop variety – that wasn’t human. I was on the phone with Alpha Hubby screaming “what is it and where is it and why is it?” when I ran into the lost baby possum wandering out of my laundry room at the other end of the house. I don’t know who was more scared – yes I do, it was ME. Needless to say, AH got ALL the attic gaps fixed asap and pdq before any further remodeling ensued.

  12. LBDDiareis says:

    OK you win. A squirrel popping out of the toilet tops the skunk falling thru the ceiling – except for… TREE FROGS – my mom’s house in the late 80’s – you didn’t DARE go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without turning the light on ’cause there might be a tree frog or two (those tiny ones) sitting on the toilet seat edge who didn’t want to share that space with you. The result – major screaming – and it wasn’t the frog.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *