Freaky Frugalite

Nothing like a possum skulking around in the basement to keep you on your toes, full of vim and vigor while you exercise heartily and obtain your target heart rate for aerobic exercise! Yes indeedy!

We knew something was afoot a few weeks ago, when the cats’ food in the basement started mysteriously disappearing. And their cozy little beds were always strewn about the floor when we visited the cats in the morning. The kids attributed it to one cat jealously attacking another cat in the night… but the food missing from their super-clean bowls made me suspicious (my outdoor cats are terribly fussy eaters).

I figured it was a raccoon coming in through the hatch. My cat, Fuzzy, has this lousy habit of hanging with the roughest gang members of the forest. He brings them home for a snack and a drink, from time to time. :-p I run a respectable place, I don’t like a bunch of raccoon ruffians “hanging” on my porch, eating my cat food and engaging in lascivious behavior! I’ve told Fuzzy to make better friends, but he’s incorrigible.

Well our other cat, an orange tabby named Milo, has been sick. I don’t want him distressed in the basement. We decided to barricade the basement door pet-door hatch. It would lock the cats in all night, but it would keep any critter out.

Who knew possums were so smart?

We’d all gone to bed that night, but my daughter stayed up half the night to write an essay. She heard the sound of a cat food dish being flung across the concrete floor of the basement below, and went to investigate. She reports that a medium-sized possum was sitting in Fuzzy’s cushy powder-blue cat bed, and was salaciously munching my expensive cat food. Caught in the act, he looked up and met my daughter’s eye.

She tried to shoo him out the door (when she told me this, I cringed. The thing could have sunk his razor-sharp teeth into her precious leg!), but the possum just SAT there. Apparently, he had the invitation of the resident cat, and wasn’t budging until his host told him to go. So the daughter did the next best thing to oust an unwelcome male guest from the premises: CALL THE DAD.

My Hubs dutifully came down. I missed the early part of the action, not wanting to get involved (had been a long day and I was tired) and caring not if I missed a blogger’s golden photoshoot opportunity. But after I heard some loud clunking (loud enough to be heard over the din of the Yorkies’ incessant barking), I decided to see if I could help. By the time I entered the action, both husband and daughter-armed with brooms- were attempting to shoo the possum from a big bale of old garden fencing that was precariously perched on top of a messy pile of of furnace ducting and electrical wiring (dang, I KNEW we should have cleared all that junk out over the summer).

The critter wouldn’t budge. He wrapped his ratty, skinny, disgusting tail around the fencing and held on for dear life. Eventually, The Hubs decided to pick up the enormous bale of fencing- possum and all- and carry him outside. The daughter and I cleared a path for them, through the junk toward the door. Which reminds me, I have a ton of crud to pick up today, the mess we made from all the things that spilled out of the boxes. *sigh*

So the Hubs heroically carried the intruder outdoors. He didn’t like the ride very much (the possum and my husband). The critter moved a little closer to my husband during the ride, who was gripping the heavy bale with difficulty. The Hubs cooed, “Oh Mr. Possum, I don’t like you coming near me….” I, not a gracious hostess at all and certainly not prone to cooing, smacked the cage to move the possum away from my husband. He opened his mouth a little, as if to say, “Yikes!” and quickly moved to the other side of his transport.

We dumped him in the grass.

He just hung for dear life and stared at us. Wouldn’t budge. Now that he was out of my house, I was feeling more congenial. “Come on, you dumb critter! Get out of here, you stupid rascal!” Wouldn’t move. Perhaps the possum was stuck on the rails? I said so to my husband.

“So what do you want me to do?” he asked, obviously exasperated by both the possum and my rising enthusiasm about the situation.

“Dump the fence over. Maybe he’ll crawl out.”

“Fine, fine.” He turned it over. No go. The possum just blinked slowly.

By now, the OTHER daughter was downstairs, to see what all the commotion was about. And I was finally awake enough to realize I hadn’t taken any photos for the blog yet! I ran to get my camera. My husband, tired and disgusted with having to deal with *another* one of Fuzzy’s juvenile delinquent pals, stormed in the house to go to bed.

Fuzzy sauntered over about this time, his tail high and meowing as if glad to see us. He sat on the porch, watching the possum slowly blink at me every time the flash went off. Grr, dumb cat!

We barricaded the pet door with a larger impediment. In the house, Livvy ran around like a crazy cat- she is not allowed in the basement so therefore she missed all the excitement- but now that the possum AND Fuzzy were right outside her kitchen windows, she scampered from window to window to get a better view.

I snapped a few more photos of the unmoving possum. The excitement dwindled down. We finally went to bed about a half hour later. The possum would have to figure out how to get down. I checked in the morning-the bale of fencing was still where we left it, but the possum was long gone.

As for Fuzzy- He is DEFINITELY GROUNDED. For a MONTH.

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• The New Box
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