or as Kaylee thinks of it, The Prey
Later Tom said he thought he heard some rustling that made him think we had something pretty large in the attic overhead.
We got up only to remember it was Presidents' Day because of our lack of a Wall Street Journal, drank coffee, and then Tom meandered back to the bathroom. Only to come immediately back saying, "I know why there was barking in the night. You won't believe what's in my bathroom."
Poor little thing.
I could see its black ear shaking against the white wall when I peeked around the corner.
It wasn't the only creature shaken up. Wash, our 85-pound gentle giant of a Boxer, atypically slept next to Tom (the alpha who would presumably protect him) and after Tom left, he moved next to me (the beta, so almost as good as a protector). More charitably we could assume he was protecting us. Sure. That's it. Protecting us.
Little thing is a relative term, of course.
That possum was probably a third of Kaylee's size. All we can figure is that she brought in yet another trophy to us. Since it was the middle of the night why not bring it where we were? The bedroom. I can only imagine that possum's terror at waking up and finding the exit blocked by Kaylee on her bed near the door. I am just surprised it found such a good defensive corner to crouch in.
Again we marveled at the way a possum's protective "faint" worked so well. Kaylee, the perfect predator, has brought us numerous dead rats and squirrels. One good shake and their necks are broken. She seems stymied by the "dead" possum though. Both of those have been alive when we found them in the house.
Thanks, girl. We love you too.
Luckily we had a huge cardboard box and a broom. That combined with the corner into which the little guy had backed itself were the perfect trap. A few minutes later it was outside near the bushes, motionless. When Tom looked out a few minutes later it was gone.
Enjoying the satisfaction of a job well done.