My Battle With a Possum

A few years ago, I inadvertently had a run in with a possum. But first, let me address the animal's correct spelling. According to Grammarly.com, opossums live in North America and possums live in Australia. I live in North America and we Midwesterners call the opossum a possum even though it's not a possum at all. But, since I call the opossum a possum, I will hence forth continue to call the animal a possum even though it's not. So, as I previously mentioned, a few years ago, I inadvertently had a run in with a possum.

At the time, my wife and I owned a couple of Schnoodles. We named the Schnauzer/Poodle mixes Spook and Shadow. One evening about midnight, the sibling canines scratched at the door, wanting one last bathroom break for the night. I hated when this happened. The pair pranced around the yard, sniffing each blade of grass, never hurrying even if their owner needed to sleep. Knowing they would be a while, I crawled back in bed, waiting for their whines and yips at the back door.

On this particular night, I drifted off to sleep and about a half-hour later, I heard the Schnoodles barking their heads off. I scrambled out of bed, threw open the door and squinted into the darkness. Both dogs stood in a pouncing position, nibbling and snapping at what I believed to be a chew toy. I yelled their names, but neither would be convinced to leave the toy and come inside. I stepped lightly off the porch into the darkness of our backyard...but let me stop for a minute.

I use the term "yard" loosely. We grow rocks. Well, not intentionally...but that's what seems to happen. We live in the middle of a decent sized town, but our house sits on a very rocky hillside. If our family of 8 spends a few moments picking up rocks and dumping them into a pile, the next day others have taken their place. There must be legions of these stone outcroppings, chipping off, pushing up to see the light of day...All of that to say, it isn't pleasant to walk barefoot on our residential quarry. Those jagged stone edges leave a mark. That's why I stepped "lightly"...

Both dogs ignored me as I drew close. So, I waded into the middle of them and stooped to snatch away their toy. The "toy" hissed. Toys aren't supposed to do that. The "toy's" breath felt warm and moist on my hand. I no longer cared about protecting my feet. I sprinted to the porch and dashed inside to find a flashlight. I shone the beam into the backyard and I saw the red beady eyes of a large possum.

My dogs continued to circle the hissing marsupial, baring its long pointy teeth. Finally, I coaxed the dogs inside but knew if the possum stayed in our yard, our dogs would bark all night long. I considered grabbing my shotgun, but feared the consequences of waking the neighbors with a 12 gauge blast. So, I grabbed the broom. For the first few minutes, I poked his rear end with the bristles, but the possum just stood there and hissed. Since that didn't work, I resorted to sweeping the possum across the yard. Each time I swept the critter, he moved a few inches and hissed his displeasure. After several minutes of brushing the possum around the yard, I neared my destination...the gate. With about 6 feet left, I decided it was time to play Tiger Woods. I positioned myself as a golfer and swung the broom like a driver. The bristles catapulted the possum into the air and he sailed ten to twelve feet into the neighbor's yard. It hissed through the air like a leaky balloon. When it landed, it shook itself vigorously and waddled off into the shadows.

You may be wondering why I took such desperate measures to rid my yard of the animal. Well, I thought the creature might be carrying some kind of disease or be rabid. Only recently did I learn about the benefits of possums hanging around the property. This education came from a picture posted on Facebook.

So, from now on, if one of these creatures resembling a miniature R.O.U.S shambles into our yard, I'll let it be. This is much cheaper than hiring an exterminator.