I was sitting on the throne, with the door to the hall open, and I saw a cat eating the dry food at the end of the hall. Not unusual.

But I didn't have my glasses on and couldn't quite tell which cat. I was trying to decide between Tom and CC. Then, before I got my glasses on it turned toward me.

It was the little possum. When I made a noise it took off. I guess the raccoons didn't leave anything for it.

This is the one that a) I rescued from the trash can and b) had a nasty gash on its hip. I can still see the scar.

CC was in the den and watched the whole process.

Tom comes onto the porch quite regularly when I put out the wet food and the girls don't seem to mind him at all.

If the miscellaneous critters take too many liberties, I'll have to call the taxidermist--who is also the official parish animal remover. He's the one who got the alligator out of my front yard one summer.

His most famous bit of taxidermy is the (mounted) hind quarters of a raccoon--back side facing outwards.



Did you know the casual (and not-quite-nice term for Cajun) is coonass?