Aww what a sweet story.He WAS rank!I'll tell you that was one strange night. The cat came inside to visit and got all hissy while staring at the door, so I opened it to see what the problem could be and in walked this possum, for ever more like he owned the joint and was just waiting for someone with opposable thumbs to let him in. I got ornery thoughts and went to invite the dogs in to see what they would do to this stinky, bold customer. They gallop in, see the cat, nod hello, see the possum, nod a friendly hello and keep right on going into the living room. I call them back to the kitchen and point to the intruder under the table and said, "Hey! Possum under the table!"
They look at the possum and look at me as if to say, "Yeah, we see your ugly new cat. So what? Got anything to eat? Wanna pet us?".I figured they think this thing is in my territory, I'm alpha, I can handle it and they are not supposed to bother alpha's stuff...like chickens. By this time I'm disgusted...so far, the only one that notices this wild animal making free in my kitchen was Spike, the cat. He's a little gimpy in the hip, so I didn't expect much from him.
I put the everlivin'lovin'mutts back out in the backyard. I pick up my broom and start to sweep the new "cat" out from under the table. He grinned at me and would not be moved..just scrambled right back under the table.
Number one son arrives home from work and sits down at said table and starts to eat something he brought home in a carton. I told him there is a possum under the table. He says, "Huh?" with his mouth full. I said, more slowly and distinctly, "THERE IS A POSSUM UNDER THE TABLE." He bends down to look under the table and says, "Huh!" and raises his eyebrows in surprise...then takes another bite out of his sandwich. Like this is an every day occurrence and he's just surprised that it's happening right by his boots.
I then informed him that he would need to remove the possum. He stated he was not going to touch the ol' thing. I rebutted that he could hand over his Man Card and sleep outdoors with the dogs who were now missing their Dog Cards. His reply? He rips out an enormous fart and smiled smugly and stated, "There! That'll take care of 'em!" and goes back to his eating.
By this time I am fed up with the whole thing and so I just bend down, grab Earl's tail(yes, I named him...as in "Earl's Gotta Die", thank you, Dixie Chicks) and carry him to the door. Earl continues to grit his teeth at me. I take him to the edge of the porch and give him a sling. He looks back at me once as if to say, "So much for southern hospitality....wait until you see what review this gets online!" and waddles off into the night.
From that brief contact with his nub(thing had the end of his tail cut off previously, I'm thinking...maybe from the last homeowner he intruded upon) my hand wreaked of something rotten and took a few washings to get the smell off. Not only do they play dead but they go the extra mile and smell dead as well.
I'll take some hand sanitizer instead.That was only the first time I had to remove Earl from somewhere by the tail. He also had to be dragged out from under the front porch settee after I caught him eating the cat food...he got a good lickin' for his troubles that night. Another night he was hiding inside a concrete block while the dog was trying to get him out(finally figured out the ugly, smelly new cat is no cat at all), so I helped him by yankin' that stumpy tail and pulling him out, clawing and hissing and throwing him on the ground for the dog. Wouldn't ya know it? The dog who kills coons, possum, and groundhog like nothing STILL let Earl waddle away at the speed of smell. I think he felt sorry for the poor thing and his nubby tail....
I'll tell you that was one strange night. The cat came inside to visit and got all hissy while staring at the door, so I opened it to see what the problem could be and in walked this possum, for ever more like he owned the joint and was just waiting for someone with opposable thumbs to let him in. I got ornery thoughts and went to invite the dogs in to see what they would do to this stinky, bold customer. They gallop in, see the cat, nod hello, see the possum, nod a friendly hello and keep right on going into the living room. I call them back to the kitchen and point to the intruder under the table and said, "Hey! Possum under the table!" 
I figured they think this thing is in my territory, I'm alpha, I can handle it and they are not supposed to bother alpha's stuff...like chickens. By this time I'm disgusted...so far, the only one that notices this wild animal making free in my kitchen was Spike, the cat. He's a little gimpy in the hip, so I didn't expect much from him.
