POSSUM PRETTY

I was sitting at my desk the other evening, finishing up a few things while waiting for Myladylove to get home from work, when a hint of movement just over the lip of the riverbank caught my eye. A moment later, a possum clambered into view, pausing at the top to look around furtively, like a sneak thief getting ready to commit a break-in.

It wasn't a big possum, as possums go, not in the least portly…more svelte than porcine. A petite possum with a pink nose that seemed to glow in the gathering twilight. A "she" possum, I decided, though I hadn't a clue one way or the other. But rather pretty for a possum.

Miss Possum had apparently made her way here to check under the bird feeders for any tasty tidbits of noshing interest to a wandering marsupial. I thought about redirecting her around the cottage to the back, were we put out a rather well-stocked compost pile.

She continued to appear apprehensive, or at least nervously cautious, taking a step or two, pausing to look this way and that. Surprisingly alert for an animal generally considered a world-class dullard. Your typical possum invariably seems predestined to make the fatal error of attempting to stare down an oncoming Buick…a singularly vacuous trait that forever secures its title as the poster critter for flattened fauna.

I hoped my pretty little pink-nosed possum avoided that fate.

After a few minutes of nosing about, she ambled around the cottage corner and out of sight. Places to go, things to do. A busy possum, looking for an evening potluck. Which reminded me that Myladylove would be in soon and I needed to get our own supper going. I made a mental note to save a few scraps to put out front—just in case my cute little visitor returned.