Skunk Bait

I just returned from wasting a half hour giving a possum a ride in the car.
Hmmm…I didn’t fully realize just how weird that sounds until I wrote it down. Perhaps I should back up…
Not too long ago, a skunk moved in under my shed in the backyard. Needless to say, the skunk and my dog should never ever meet, so I plotted to rid myself of the skunk.
First, I opted for the Manuel Noriega Treatment, playing insipid music 24/7, at loud volumes. Oddly, this did not cause Mr. Skunk to send in his intent to vacate papers, nor even file a protest. I’m mystified. It worked so well for President Bush, “the first” with the former banana republic strongman.
So then I decided that a trap was in order. I loaded the bait tray with tuna (as anyone knows, skunks hunt tuna in the wild), placed the trap on the path he’d worn in the “grass”, and waited.
It wasn’t a great expenditure of my time.
After catching two clueless local cats (catch and release, local style), and after “someone” stole the bait three times from the trap, I bought a better trap.
I was still hopeful. My superior brain would finally prevail. Or so I thought. Instead of a skunk, I awoke to find a possum caught in my new critter trap. And, after checking carefully, I was disappointed to discover that he wasn’t “packing” a skunk in his furry pouch, so now we get to the part about the half hour drive to the game preserve. On a lighter note, he seemed to like the drive’s tuunage. Music is so important for a pleasant drive; the right selection makes all the difference!
When I arrived at a local rustic park, I went to the back of my vehicle expecting a slavering ravening beast, ready to try to rip my face off. After all, this was a wild animal I had trapped. I opened the back expecting the worst…and nothing. It was as if he were dead.
“Ohhhhh….I get it.” I thought.
“Maybe this won’t be so bad…”
I picked up the cage, expecting a ruckus. Again…Nothing.
I popped open the latch. Still nothing.
I upended the trap. Still nothing.
“You’re playing dead? Really, Dude? We both know that that is so totally lame!”
I upended the trap a second time and I shook it and the possum finally launched out of the cage, ran about six feet and looked back aghast at his unseemly treatment at my hands.
The drive back to the house seemed longer than the drive out. The music was the same…what was different? Ah yes…I was no longer sharing the tuunage with anyone else…even if he was just a possum.
Maybe he has his own tuunage with him tonight as he adjusts to his new home.