OK, that baby possum (who's getting bigger every day) almost gave me a heart attack last night! In all fairness, I almost gave him one, too.
I opened the kitchen door to drop some papers into the recycle bin. The possum (who I've named Opie Jr., after Opie, his mama) was hanging halfway over the edge, about a foot away from my hand. When I opened the door, the sensor light went on, illuminating him and all his gray furriness. The light scared him, the movement scared me, and we both jumped back in horror.
Poor little guy was stuck, trying to get out of the bin, and I was trying to shut the door before he came scurrying inside. It was mass confusion.
He finally made it over the edge and outta there in a hurry. I slammed the door, and whispered a bad word. In the silence, I could hear my heart going a hundred miles an hour -- it was, as Mark would say, bleating fast.
I like animals, I really do, but I'm more for saving wildlife than recycling it.
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