Heh, no…I was just relinking the visual aid pic I had in Chapter III.
Chapter V: The (Damn Well Better Be The) Final Chapter
It’s been a week since Chapter IV, when the little guy realized he could be snug and warm inside, yet remain out of my reach. The trap has been on the floor all this time, but he’s been clever, staying up high (and nope, the trap won’t fit anywhere up in his play area).
Then, last night, the dog starts his flip-out routine. I wondered if the trap was sprung, so I went into the basement to investigate. Nope, nothing in the trap, but I knew he was nearby – I could rear rustling in the big pile of boxes and bags off to the side. I spent a few minutes digging through there, but came up empty. Ok, no prob, I just moved the trap closer to there and put some fresh apple in it. Time to play the waiting game.
I went back upstairs to watch TV with my wife, when about 90 minutes later the dog goes 100% ballistic. Ah-hah! We must’ve gotten the little bugger! I opened the door to the basement and was about to start down the stairs, when I nearly stepped on an opossum.
The little bastard had climbed the stairs and was now on the threshold of being in my house. Not the basement, but the dining room. Unacceptable.
Now, I didn’t want to close the door, since I didn’t want to lose track of him. He and I were having a good staredown, he with his teeth bared, me with a heavy flashlight. I needed a couple of things, and I needed them fast. First, I needed the dog to be kept the hell away from this scene. He was nearby, looking at me quizzically, and if he saw something trying to invade his home, there would’ve been a fight that ended in a trip to the vet. I called to my wife and had her quickly lock the dog in the living room. Then I sent her to go grab a box while I tried to keep the opossum’s interest.
By the time she got back with a box a few moments later, the critter had started back down the stairs. Fortunately, they’re kinda slow, so I was able to put the box on a lower step and give him a little nudge with my foot. <Plop>, into the box.
No more dumping him up the block, through…that obviously wasn’t going to cut it anymore. I grabbed my keys, kissed my wife and told her I’d be back in about a half hour.
If this guy wants to make another appearance in my basement, he’s got a seven-mile hike in front of him. He’s going to have to cross both Route 295 and the New Jersey Turnpike, plus cross at least three massive, wide-open predator-filled fields.
If he makes it back, I’ll just give up and turn the guest room into his private opossum suite.
Yay, happy ending! However, I’m still wondering just how you keep an opossum’s interest.
I’m guessing hand puppets and shadows.
So Hal, have you located the point of entry yet? You could still have more critters.
Maybe they leave secret signs indicating your house, like hobos.
I am soooo going to use this one of these days.
When I try it, the little robot screams at me, “Turn that back on, you moron! You couldn’t hit Canada with the Arizona meteor!”