I just came face to face with our resident opossum. Oh, you didn't know we had a new pet? ME NEITHER. I've seen this disgusting creature a couple of times before in our backyard, always at night, and I've only seen it because Lily goes positively mental when she spots it and won't shut her yapper. But tonight, I actually came within a foot of it, sitting on our fence, beady eyes staring at me like "Yo, beyotch, what's shakin'?" I don't think I've screamed like I just did in years, possibly decades. Have YOU seen a opossum up close before? I don't think they even have them at the zoo because they are so absolutely gross, and all manner of kids would scream and run away and never come back to the zoo again. Opossums are no monkeys let me tell you.
Anyhow, our opossum, who I have named Stan
seems to have taken up residence under our deck. Probably with his family of a 100. Did you know female opossums can carry up to 13 of their young in their front pouches, like kangaroos? The problem here is not that they are marsupials and still ugly as all hell, but that they can cart around THIRTEEN just like them. So, I suppose I need to call some animal control people to come out and trap Stan and his ilk. Honestly, I am all for loving the wild animals and we need all kinds to make the world go 'round, but opossums are just overgrown rats and are infested with all sorts of diseases and I don't really give a rat's ass (ha!) if Stan gets a beebee bullet between the eyes.
If I was nine months pregnant, I probably would have gone into labor. THAT'S HOW FREAKED OUT I WAS.