Sunday, November 6, 2011

Baby Possum at the Back Door

To understand this you have to know that I feed four feral cats that live in my backyard.  (People occasionally ask me what feral means.  I tell them that feral means wild.)  We've caught them in a have-a-heart trap and gotten them neutered so that we don't have thousands of cats in the neighborhood.  The cats also got tested and vaccinated.

The cats are named:  Linus, Sally, James Bond, Jr., and Moneypenny.  Occasionally, a James Bond, Jr. look-a-like with a collar shows up and samples the food.  (I call him Q.)  After the cats finish eating, the next shift of animals shows up, and we get to watch the raccoon and possum show.  It is still a shock to look out the window expecting to see a cat and see a raccoon or a possum instead.

Tonight, a baby possum showed up.  Most of my friends think possums are ugly, but I like them.  We had a baby possum for a while when we were kids.  We also had a baby raccoon just for a short time.

Well, the baby possum got up on the table where the cat food was, but Moneypenny and James Bond, Jr. were still on the table, too.  What a sight!  The cats just looked at the baby possum while he (or she - I don't know) ate kibble food.

I have threatened to bring home a baby goat for my husband's birthday.  On one of his birthdays, I printed out pictures of miniature donkeys (they really do have mini donkeys), and told him that was going to be his present.  You should have seen the look on his face.  (He frequently tells me, "no more animals.")  I didn't give him the mini donkeys, but I would love to have one, along with a miniature horse and goat.  Every time we see cute animals on TV, he says, "I know.  You want one for Christmas."  It's true.

One of my favorite stories is about when my brother and his wife were talking about what to get me for Christmas.  My niece said, "I know.  Let's get Aunt Debbie a puppy!"  I thought that was great.  She's a girl after my own heart.  I think animals are one of the eight wonders of the world.

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