There's A Possum On my Pillow

Late last summer, I brought mix-breed (Pit, Terrier, Corgi, who knows what) MacKenzie into the family. She is about 34#, about 20" tall, and stood in the back of the kennel cage when I went dog-searching. She wasn't really "outspoken", but instead a bit timid, but horribly cheerful. I took her out for a walk, she pottied peacefully, wasn't interested in playing, and, when I sat on the shelter's floor, she came over, layed down in my lap, tail wagging, and just looked up to say, "Hey Lady, you'll do. Please get me out of here!"

Working out crating issues, along with some housebreaking confusion, I kept Kenzie kennelled a bit of time when she first came home. I wanted to be in-control of every situation with my little Schnauzer Allie, preventing any kind of argument or discussion.

One Sunday morning, Kenzie was a little too rambunctious, so I crated her. I was out in the kitchen, fixing coffee, and I saw her looking towards the bedroom, barking in an ominous way. I scolded her, figuring, "She needs to quit barking at the cats! Goofball!" She "boofed" a few more times while I watched the morning news. I went in the bedroom to start getting cleaned up for church, and

There was a Possum On My Pillow On the Bed!!!!!!!!!! SHREAK!

See, there was a soft spot on my house floor between the bathroom & the bedroom. I knew it needed repaired, but I was totally unaware it was completely all the way to the ground, and a curious vermin could find their way in from said soft-spot.

Turns out, she was trying to let me know there was an unwanted guest in the house. Good Puppy! I shut the bedroom door, praised her with cookies, secured the cats in another room, shuffled Allie into a crate, and went back into the bedroom, to identify the little booger. Called my parents, who suggested "Tossing a towel over it, catch & release". I tossed towels, blankets, pillows, nothing. Squirt just kept running out from under. I even tried tossing a laundry basket on top, with plans to "scoot" the basket to the front door, and release him there.

I went back out in the living room, shut the bedroom door, and tried to figure a way to catch it, and get it OUT of my bedroom. I re-assembled my thoughts, and went back in the bedroom. Possum was GONE, obviously back out the hole he came in. I tore the bedroom apart looking for him - closets, dresser, chest for blankets, bathroom, under the bed, behind the blankets, everywhere.

Living in the country has its benefits. I'm not dependant on some boogers to care for my horses, and I don't ever come home to find them starved or being beaten by some stupid grown-up or kid. There's nobody close enough to the house to see me doing breakfast feeds in my PJs. I can mow my grass at 9:30am, without "waking the neighborhood", and nobody laughs when I mow in a sport bra. There are some disadvantages to living out of town. Groceries, gas, home depot, feed store, all at a distance, at least a 15 minute drive one way. Repair contractors charge a "rural fee", as does the trash company. Mail people operate at obscure, and often unpredictable office & delivery hours. Neighbors often don't hear me scream for help. Possums crawl in the house & try to nap on my bed. Raccoons tear into feed buckets, and live on a buffet lifestyle. Stray cats breed & deliver kits under the house. Overall, it's worth the disadvantages. The quiet at night is unbeatable, and the darkness is so dark that a full moon casts shadows from the trees. Birds flutter all around, as do the squirrels & deer. Unwelcome wildlife comes with the territory, and with the shotgun loaded, and the floor repaired, I am up for the challenge.