After we gave the kittens away we were just back to a happily spayed Annie and were living the good life with a little cat in our lives. Annie always came to the back door to eat and had her chow on the top step.
One night I heard a sound at the back door, I thought it must be Annie asking for food but I was sure I'd already fed her. I opened the door and in the dark I saw her chowing away at her kitty kibble. "So sweet," I thought and I reached down to pet her. Her fur felt a little different but I didn't really think much of it until "Annie" looked up and I found myself staring into the face of a small possum. I started screaming at the top of my lungs, the possum started screaming too. It was screaming and I was screaming. My eight year old son was in his bedroom terrified not knowing what I was screaming about and not having a clue as to what that other sound was. He tried to peer out his window at the backdoor to see what was going on. All he could see was me standing at the door screaming. It was mayhem to say the least.
I was terrified that the possum was going to run into the house and I didn't know WHAT I was going to do then. All of the sudden I realized that I just needed to CLOSE THE DOOR!!!! Like a doofus I managed to close the door and hope that the petrified possum would skeddadle.
My son came running through the house after he heard the door close. He didn't know WHAT he would find but instead of the feared blood and gore all he found was a hysterical mother who was laughing her head off and trying to compose herself enough to tell the poor little guy what had happened.
Once he heard the story he was laughing too. He didn't let me soon forget not to pet possums instead of kitty cats.