Possum Fritters

Sunday night when Tom and I got back from walking the dog, we found Sarah standing on the chair in front of the computer in the living room. (Since this chair has wheels on it, this seemed like a particularly bad idea.) She thought she had seen a small gray animal make its way across the living room toward her - perhaps a rat, maybe a possum. Bullwinkle, the black lab, was not going to be helpful so I put him in his crate in the other room even though he was wet from the rain, and Tom and the girls started looking for the small gray animal.

It seemed most likely that it was behind the sofa (this would be the sofa that I bought when I was an intern that has been subsequently been destroyed by the cumulative effect of multiple moving companies, three children, and especially the aforementioned Labrador retriever), so Tom looked behind it and didn't see it at first. I went to return Bullwinkle's second blanket (since he was wet) to his crate, but once I opened the door he was out, and the hall door wasn't closed, so Bullwinkle was back in the living room. In the meantime, Tom had spotted it but with the dog back in the room no telling where it had gone.

We turned the sofa over (no animal) but ultimately got it under a blanket and then into a wire wastebasket. It was a young possum, doing its best to look fierce, with its mouth open and hair on end (I told Sarah it had spiky hair like hers). Tom carried it - wastebasket and all - up the street to the church where he let it loose - hopefully far enough away it would not make its way back to our house.

When the kids ask what's for dinner, or what some unfamilar food is on the table, Tom often answers "possum fritters." We had our chance, but no possum fritters tonight.