Hello, I’m going to make you beat yourselves with your own shoes!
Two years ago, Smith was spreading some bags of mulch in the front yard. At the bottom of the stack, between the last two bags he found a baby opossum! It looked like a cute, tiny, weird kitten. We couldn’t figure out where the mother could be, or why she had left her baby in such an odd place. We assumed she was out looking for food or turning tricks to make ends meet. Baby opossum wasn’t scared of us at all. He just looked at us or slept while we worked around him. When we were finished with the yard work, we didn’t want anything to harm the baby in the mother’s absence, so I made a tiny opossum house out of a beer box and placed it over him. There was a tiny front door and tiny windows and tiny stickers. It was super cute. We checked on the little guy throughout the evening – but by morning, the house was abandoned with only a tiny tuft of opossum hair left behind.
Cut to, two months later I was laying in bed at about 3am, when I heard someone trying to break into our pool area! “Ah shit, this is it! Where’s my flashlight?! I gotta prepare for battle!” I nudged Smith awake with my hand over his mouth. Smith was like “muryesh?”
“Someone… is trying… to break in… listen…” I whispered.
“Ah hell nah!” Smith jumped to his feet and ran out half naked with a garden stake and my flashlight. (He clearly thought it was going to be vampires out there.) Side note: that he sprung to action out of a dead sleep- that shit is brave as hell to me. I was just preparing to hunker down behind the bed crying “Now I’ll never get to see the iPhone 6!” until the burglars finally broke through the threshold. Then I would spring into ninja like kicks and tiger like scratching motions and slap fight them until my untimely demise. But not Smith, he’s my big strong man!
Smith snuck outside, and shone the light in the area of the noises. Much to my surprise, it was not the Taliban, it was a young azz opossum! Likely the same opossum from the front yard. He was trying to break into our roof gutter and appeared to be the Vin Diesel of opossums. Totally BAO; bad ass opossum. Smith even tried to spray him with the hose to get him to leave, lil bastid didn’t even move – he just took it and shook the water off and looked at us. “That all ya got, bitches?!” Like he didn’t retreat or anything. Totally bad ass.
I tried to get a picture of him but I kept
freaking out running away like a little bitch. My iPhone actually snapped a pic, mid bolt, to remind me of my weak constitution:
Smith eventually got the lil guy to move to a tree and quickly developed a plan; Smith would get on the roof to chase BAO further into the tree and I would stand guard with the hose, to distract BAO, should the opossum become aggressive.
I look cute, but I will “pick you up with my mind vision and shake you like a dawg.”
What Smith didn’t take into account? That I would be the dude in those war movies, that’s sitting watch in the woods somewhere and keeps hearing sounds and eventually just mows down everything in a panic. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
I kept hearing that lil bastid in the trees, but it was so dark I couldn’t see him so I would just freak out and start shooting the shit out of everything. Every time I sprayed “the opossum,” it was actually Smith I was mowing down. Smith eventually said, in the nicest of ways; “Baby, if you spray me in the face one more time, I’m gonna snap.” Being the lookout for the opossum was hard, because you could smell him just before you could see him, and he’d just pop up like a wack-a-mole, sending me into a panic. This smell/sight /panic process is how I now imagine all those people who have met big foot must have felt like – just before they shit themselves.
This opossum, who I’ve lovingly nicknamed Lamonte, doesn’t know he’s “nocturnal.” Which is why I once came home at about 3pm to find Smith chasing Lamonte in the backyard, armed with only a sandal and a twig. Smith, not the opossum. Opossum don’t give a shit. I was like “What were you going to do if he attacked you? Beat him about the ass until he promised to move? What if he’s kinky?! You might as well just throw a welcome mat up there and get to tweaking your nipples!”
SO, we’ve been fighting this lil dude for 2 years now. Mainly because every pest place we’ve called wants to kill him – and we’re just not down with that. We don’t want him to go to meet baby Jesus, we just want him to find a home that isn’t our roof. Anyhow, Lamonte comes back to move into the gutter every 4-6 months. Must be like the official opossum sabbatical time frame or something. Yesterday, I saw Lamonte shimmy out around 2pm. I made the mistake of telling Smith, who quickly climbed onto the roof and began some “construction.”
Yeah, then this piece goes like this… yeah… perfect. HONEY, GET ME THE ELMER’S, WILL YA?
Lord only knows what Smith made up there. I’m too clumsy to investigate anything more that 5 feet off of the ground. He was on the roof from 2:10 to 8:15pm. Only stopping “construction” for 15 minutes to gather supplies at the Home Depot. Smith told me what he did up there- but mind you, Smith is like a mad scientist and I am a girl who gets distracted easily. This is a diagram I made for you to understand how I understand Smith’s opossum diverting construction to be:
I might have misunderstood or totally nailed it. Either way, good luck Lamonte, may the force be with you.
You know I made a special-tee for this! Click here > Opossum Tee