In addition to the coyotes circling our pasture every pre-dawn morning, this weekend's cold snap has made an impetus for bringing outdoor cats indoors at bedtime. Last night before bed, I headed out the back door, into the dark, into our grotto, to fetch one of the errant kitties.
I spied him scuttling across the mulched garden and under one of the Adirondacks. I stepped off the porch towards him, to scoop him up in my arms and to bring him into the house for nighttime safety.
I stopped short.
Just barely short enough:
It was a little possum.
Scared to death at the human calling, "MacArthur! Come here!" at him.