There's a Possum in My Kitchen. No, really.

"Hey! That possum's back. It's under the dishwasher. Come see."

Wouldn't you love to wake up to that? That was my husband talking to me at 4:30 this morning. He's left for work. It's ten after five and clearly that is the sort of news that doesn't allow me to fall back asleep.

We have been plagued by this wiley little possum for the past week. It's a baby. A very persistent baby about the length of my shoe. Last weekend something had knocked down two mason jars on different nights. I found a rather large poo on the shelf and was totally skeezed out. I cleaned up the poo, sprayed bleach water all over the shelves and then set out rat/mouse poison (thinking it a rat).
Two days later my husband was switching over the  laundry downstairs when a baby possum clumsily walked the pipes just over his head. It walked to the shelves where the canning supplies are and sat down on the rack that goes into the hot water pot. G picked up the rack (with possum perched on it) and carried the whole lot outside to our neighbors (3 college guys who never take their trash to the curb).
Then he left for work (without waking me), but texted me once he was there to tell me the news. I woke up and looked towards neighbors house. Sure enough, that little possum was actually making a bee line straight for our house!
I opened the window and shooed it off (rather ineffectively). It stopped in its tracks and jumped up on the tire/wheel well of my car. I ran outside to shoo it away and couldn't find it, nor could I find any possible entry into our house.
That was Monday.

Yesterday (Thursday), I received another 5:30am text from my husband at work who wrote that he caught the possum again. He could hear something crashing around the basement. When he went down to check it out, he found the baby possum in a brown paper bag of empty Coke cans. When G went towards the bag, it burrowed further down. So G picked up the whole bag and walked it down the street and set it on the corner. This text also woke me up, so I went out to see what I could see. I could see my bag of returnables on the corner (I did not retrieve them, although my inner cheapskate totally wanted to). I also saw that damn possum crossing the street and running back towards my house!!!
I quickly put on my flip flops and glasses and ran outside to intercept this little punk.
In the 20 seconds it took for me to do that, it was gone.

I've walked the perimeter of our house several times, looking for any way the possum could be getting in. I can see no obvious openings, except for the dryer vent. I need to inspect that further.

In the meantime, I've got a baby possum not in my basement, but in my KITCHEN-- ack!! It's way under the dishwasher (G saw it on the kitchen floor when he woke and it then scurried under the dishwasher when G started turning on lights).
So now I've got this ridiculous contraption set up to try to catch it: a small live/release trap with strawberries and crackers in it set directly in front of the dishwasher. On either side of the trap I've got rolled up beach towels wedged tightly under the dishwasher, hoping the possum will come out right into the trap. Praying it does not just push the towels aside.

Hold your comments about possums having large litters and the possibility that there could be another 8-10 babies and a mother in my basement. I'm keeping myself sane by telling myself this is clearly a baby that is well big enough to be away from it's mother (since I've never seen it with a mother).  I can't deal with that possibility just yet. Also, please don't remind me of what filthy, disease-carrying varmints they are. I know this. I googled it. I've been spraying a knock-off version of Tilex everywhere (quite unlike my earth-loving self).

 Ironically, I saw news of Billy the Exterminator go by on the ticker on yesterday's morning news program. Apparently he was arrested for carrying synthetic marijuana. I don't watch much television, but I've watched Billy the Exterminator several times when M was an infant and was up late at night, not interested in sleeping. Billy is quite a character, and I found it entertaining to watch him catch raccoons, possums (!), rats, or to be chased by a swarm of bees nestled into someone's living room wall. Now Billy is out on bond and I have a possum under my dishwasher.

I'm so skeezed out and frankly, somewhat frightened. I'm wearing my big Dansko clogs with my pajamas just in case me and this baby P need to duke it out. (Really, I'm afraid it will scurry over my feet and that just might make me keel over.)

I *really, really* hope I can update soon with pictures of the baby possum INSIDE the trap, getting ready to go on a car ride far, far away.