An Unwelcome Friend
When you live in the South, you are used to all kinds of critters popping up around the yard. Whether it’s a slithery snake in the garden, a sneaky skunk spraying a nosy hunting dog, or a curious raccoon raiding the garbage, it’s just the norm around here. However, there is one creature I simply cannot and will not get used to- the opossum. Besides, who could ever trust something with a silent “O” at the beginning of their name. What even is that?
It all started a few months back, when my husband told me he saw something sneaking around the outdoor refrigerator in our garage. He couldn’t decide whether it was a squirrel, mouse, a cat, or the dreaded opossum. Either way, he simply told me to keep an eye out. “Keep an eye out?” I thought. I didn’t want to have to keep an eye out for anything, but regardless I agreed. A few mornings later, I awoke earlier than the rest of the household and went to grab my computer out of my car in the garage. Sure enough, something furry was rummaging around in the corner of the garage, behind the refrigerator, and I was in no mood to find out what exactly it was. I had not even had my first sip of coffee.
I headed back into the house, quicker than I exited, and waited for Taylor to wake up. Eventually, he joined me in the kitchen when I announced to him that I, too, had seen the mystery animal in the garage. “Well, what is it? A squirrel?”
“I don’t know. It was kind of a fluffy blur. Plus, I was tired, didn’t have my contacts in, and did not want to wait around to find out.”
“I guess I’ll have to set the trap.”
“Lovely,” I thought. “I’ve always dreamed of living the luxurious life of having to trap animals in my garage.” I took another gulp of necessary coffee.
The day proceeded on, and eventually we prepared the Havahart trap in garage filled with cat food and leftovers found in the fridge. The fact that I even own a Havahart trap is beyond me, but I digress. We went to sleep and waited to see what our prize would be as day broke. The following morning, we surprising awoke with nothing in the trap. The food was gone, though. Something had quite the feast while we were sleeping but was still on the loose.
My husband and I went to work, the kids went to school, and we went about another busy yet monotonous day. Nightfall came yet again, with homework, a practice of some extra curricular activity or sport, suppertime, and finally rest. The children were finally asleep in their beds as I cozied up on the couch to catch up on my latest Bravolebrities. That’s when I heard Taylor calling from the garage, “Suz- come out here. I’ve caught him!”
I jumped up to rush out to the garage, where I saw my husband standing over the mysterious culprit. A juvenile opossum was hiding in the corner, scared to death, with his beady eyes and ghostlike face staring straight back at us. I immediately reacted in a way that even surprised myself. Now, I will kill a bug or even a snake in a second, but when I saw that opossum, my innate reaction was to climb on the roof of my midsize SUV. I was nimbler than spiderman on the side of a skyscraper as my husband looked at me like I was crazy and asked, “What are you doing up there?”
“I don’t know. Just get rid of it.”
So, as I crouched in the space between the roof of my car and the ceiling of my garage, I watched Taylor gather the opossum in a blanket and escort him to the area far behind our house and back yard. I awkwardly climbed down, returned to my show, then slept peacefully knowing nothing was rummaging around the corner of my garage.
The next day, we sent the kids off to school again, and I began my work from home. Around midday I took a break and walked into the den, where the French doors look into the patio of my back yard. And that’s when I saw it. The opossum was back and happily hobbling through my back yard, presumably looking for a way back into the garage. I immediately called Taylor. No answer. So, I did the next best thing. I called my friend, Kelly, because she always seems to know what to do. She’s a solid Mississippi girl with a hunting father and husband, so she understands the critter thing. Sure enough- Kelly knew what to do.
“Well, you have to shoot it.”
“I’m not going to shoot that thing. I don’t even have somthing to shoot it with. Seriously, what do I do?”
“Shoot it. Those animals are not supposed to be out during the day. It may be sick or something- what if it has rabies?”
Before I could respond, he was gone. I walked outside, and there was no sight of him. I walked to the front of the house, the side of the house, the back of the house, and into the garage. It was as if this damn opossum was some mythical creature that just disappeared into thin air. I let Kelly know that I apparently had a magician on my hands, and I wasn’t sure exactly what to do, but that I would call her if it reappeared.
Surprisingly enough, the opossum did not reappear. A week went by, then two. Hell, it could have been three for all I know. Afterall, in the life of a busy working mom of two small children I hardly know what day or week it is at any given moment.
At some point at the end of September, or possibly the start of October, Nashville got its first taste of fall- my all-time favorite season. The leaves had begun to slowly fall with each gentle sway of the trees, and there was a snap of a few days where open windows and doors are simply a necessity for one’s soul. The crisp breeze and autumn air felt glorious, and I was thrilled to leave our back French doors open while I typed away at the dining room table. It was one of those perfect days. My retired red Labrador lounged by the open back door as I answered work calls and jumped in and out of Zoom meetings.
Around two o’clock, I ran upstairs to grab something from my desk. I noticed my dog had moved to the couch. She was comfortably snoring as the fall air breezed through the open back door. I grabbed my item and walked back downstairs, through the kitchen, and reached for a glass in the kitchen. I walked over to the refrigerator to fill my cup with water, and that is when I saw it. As I stood at the refrigerator, filling up my cup of water, I spotted the end of a slithery, pink tail under the dining room table, crossing my lovely oriental rug. I let out an audible gasp.
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.” I said out loud. I knew what I had seen. I knew without a shadow of a doubt it was the tail of the almost forgotten, too friendly opossum. I peaked into the dining room and watched as that happy critter hobbled along the edge of our dining room, past my front door, and straight into my den where our “guard dog” sat.
I knew I needed back up. I quickly found my phone and dialed the across the street neighbor who I knew was home. “Hello?” he asked.
“Kyle. You have to help. There is a opossum in my house, and I don’t know what to do!”
“I’ll be right there.” I peered out my window and saw Kyle running over with his hands donned in thick, gardening gloves, ready to save the day.
As I stood halfway up my stairs, I looked at my dog, who had not moved a muscle. “Roux. You are supposed to protect us!”
She adjusted on the couch as if to say, “Don’t you know I have been retired for quite some time?” Roux finally got my drift, and walked over to me- still clueless as I hid on the stairs from our unwelcome friend who was now behind my curtain panel in the den.
Kyle confidently instructed me to hold the dog as he planned to chase the doe eyed marsupial out the door. And then it happened- the opossum happily trotted out to the front stoop as if he had done it a hundred times and was just leaving after having afternoon coffee with a friend.
I thanked Kyle, then let my beloved hunting dog know that I was disappointed in her lack of concern. I still don’t think she ever saw the extremely unattractive visitor. I eventually regained my composure and called my mother on the way to pick up my kids from school to let her know what had just happened. My mom listened to the story and simply said, “Well, you know, I wonder if that opossum has been coming to your house more often than you think. Don’t you leave that back door open for the dog a lot? Maybe they’re friends, and that’s why Roux didn’t budge. Maybe it’s just visiting.”
“Oh my gosh. What if that thing thinks it lives in our house?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the possibility.
Needless to say, I have stopped leaving my back door open for a while. I haven’t seen that opossum since that faithful day in October. However, I have a feeling it’s still lingering around, looking for ways to come inside and warm itself by the fireplace or walk its little rat-like feet over the soft orientals. Afterall, I do keep finding the children’s pumpkins on the front stoop with little bites taken out every now and then. I’m sure our new friend thinks we have brought those back from the pumpkin patch just for him. And who knows, maybe this critter is just trying to branch out and make new friends. Regardless, these doors are staying closed.
Not in the market for a trap, but not in the market for a furry visitor? Grab one of these solar animal repellers asap. (like I did)
Maybe if I had read this book as a child, I wouldn’t be climbing on the roof of cars to escape the little visitor.
I don’t know who in their right mind would ever need to eat opossum cupcakes, but I’m sure there’s someone out there. My five-year-old daughter absolutely loves the pink tail.
Last but certainly not least, who can discuss the topic of opossums without a nod to the legendary, George Jones. Don’t you just love this vintage tee?