First of all, let me dispel the myth that when cornered all a possum will do is "play possum". I learned this isn't always true at 2 am this morning. It had been a regular Sat night. The contractors were finally finished with the upper deck so the dogs could have the run of the backyard again (we'd spent all day for 4 days locked in the sewing room with only occasional potty breaks in the side yard) so they were happy. The dogs and I went to bed about 10:30 or 11:00. Jim was upstairs still watching TV. Darby woke me up just before 2 am leaping off the bed barking loudly. Darby is usually very good and when he goes to sleep, he rarely even moves much less barks so I figure that something is up. I get Scooter and Darby out of the bathroom by yelling loudly! And I close the door. I turn on a bedside light so it will shine into the bathroom since you can't turn on the bathroom light until you are actually in the bathroom. I slowly walk down the little hall between the walk in closets until I can see the bathroom. I look towards the doggie door and can tell there is something over there, not moving. Oh, Lordy, what the heck is in my bathroom? I reach across and flick the light on Its a young possum! He's in frozen "playing possum" mode so I take advantage of that to close the door to the part of the bathroom where the shower and toilet are and shut the doors to the 2 closets so, hopefully, he can't get into any more trouble.
I back out of the bathroom and shut the door. I sit down on the bed to think about it. I hate to wake Jim up because he needs to work in the morning and it is 2 am so I wait for 15 minutes and peak back into the bathroom, hoping that the possum has come out of "playing possum" mode and exited the doggie door which is right next to him. Now I'm learning that possums are either really brave or really dumb. Instead of going back out the way he came in, he's under the hamper. Damn! I back out and sit down to decide what to do. Darby is sniffing the bottom of the door and whining like "Let me get him, Mom. Please!" so I pick him up and put him on the bed. I wait another 10 minutes or so and look again. Still under the hamper. At this point, I decide he's probably not leaving on his own so I go upstairs and tell Jim "We have a problem".
On the way downstairs, I tell him what is going on. Somewhere in the ensuing hoping-he-just-leaves I've gotten the broom out of the garage and it's leaning against the wall next to the door. Jim picks it up and goes in. I hear a lot of scraping and growling. LOUD growling. And some hissing. After a little while Jim comes out with the hamper and sets it down, goes back for the rugs and vanity stool. He wants all the stuff he can hide under out of the room. He has on his mechanics gloves but is in shorts and t shirt so not a lot of protection. After several more minutes of growling and Darby frantically trying to figure out how to squeeze his 20 lbs under the door, I can see a shadow like the possum is near the door. A possum tail flicks out from under the door and Darby goes nuts. He's really wanting a piece of this. I have to take Darby out of the bedroom and lock him out so whining ensues.
Finally after more hissing and growling, Jim comes out and says the possum is gone!
Darby is still obsessed with the hamper. It's wicker and I'm sure it has a lot of possum smell on it. I have mopped the floors with a heavy thieves mixture and I'm going to spray the hamper really well after I have my coffee. What a night! We are not closing the doggie door at night. I'd rather be woken up by a dog wanting to go out than a dog wanting to get a possum that is in the house!
Smarta$$ that he is, I get an email this morning from my husband at the office. "Have a possum free day"