Forget the grits. Without a doubt, this story belongs to the possum!Years ago, I had a lot of cats. And for some odd reason, the cats had cats, cat cliques if you will. At dinner time they brought home friends, just like your kids do when you have planned a meal for four people and six extra bodies show up and eat you out of house and home.
But as I am tempted to quote occasionally, “life happens”.
Somewhere along the way the cats began inviting possums to dinner. The first time I noticed anything odd was at feeding time one night when I looked out my sliding glass door and saw a really u-g-l-y cat with a hairless tail, sitting in the middle of one of the food bowls, eating with all the other cats. A note here everyone, I did not have my glasses on at the time of this sighting. On closer inspection a night or two later, I saw it was actually not a cat but a very brazen possum. I let it dine that night too, as its teeth and claws looked quite sharp gleaming in the moonlight. After dinner it moved on.
The possums and cats soon had a close kinship. My cats love everyone and it got to be a routine thing that they would occasionally invite the possums to dine. So be it I thought. There was always room for one more.
I wasn’t quite ready for my next adventure, however.
You know how sometimes in the middle of the night when you are snug and cozy in your soft warm bed and mother nature is determined you are going to get up and trot all the way to the bathroom? You try so hard to resist getting up but your kidneys are plotting against you? Well, it was one of those nights.
I rolled out of bed, made the quick trip down the hall and turned on the light. Another note, I don’t always turn on a light on nightly adventures as I am like a sonar detector in the darkness. I can go from one end of the house to the other without so much as a bump. So I am not sure what made me flip the switch on this time, but in retrospect I’m certainly glad I did!
There in the hazy, fluorescent glow of my otherwise sparkling bathroom, was a site to behold. Smack in the middle of my commode in all its furry glory was the cat-food-eating possum. However, he had eaten his last kibble. He was stone, cold dead. Somehow the possum had drowned in my toilet! It was a site to behold, though one you don’t necessarily want to remember. How he came to be in my bathroom and met his tragic end is a mystery for the ages. Some things we just aren’t meant to know.
The next step was fishing it out. All I could find to remove the critter was a bent, metal coat hanger. But first I made a picture! You may think me morbid or ghoulish, but believe me no one is going to believe a story about a possum drowning in your toilet without the picture to prove it! So I took my picture, which I have to this day and would show to you, except for showing respect for the possum.
Eventually I got him fished out of the bowl and disposed of the remains in a respectful manner. After all, meeting a death like that deserves a little dignity.
And later, when I finally made it back to bed and couldn’t sleep because I thought I heard an army of possums scurrying around everywhere; a thought occurred to me quite clearly.
Can you simply imagine a slightly different scenario where I didn’t turn on the light and the possum was in the toilet but wasn’t dead? I still get shivers thinking about that one. And further, can you imagine if I had to go to the emergency room at the hospital where I work and explain to my co-workers how I got possum bites on my hind quarters at three o’clock in the morning?
Sometimes you just know that God, in whatever form you perceive him to be, is truly watching over you!
Rest in peace, Mr. Possum. Hope you made it to possum heaven.
Joyce Burns, 2011
© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011
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