The things I write down, and keep... ha ha.
This is going back a couple of years...
There was an old bloke possum staying in one of the spare houses.
He looked shocking - literally moth eaten, and covered in huge brown freckles like he'd spent far too much time out in the sun.
He looked like an ugly, but well loved teddy bear... ha ha.
Anyway, on with the show...
Earlier in the day, I saw the old bloke standing side on to the doorway of the possum house.
His hips seem to be convulsing...
He was really squirming and shaking, to the point where I felt pretty concerned.
I know he can seem a little unsteady on his feet at times, but this is not him being clumsy... he looked like he was in serious trouble.
I looked at his face and he had a sort of dopey, goofy, daydreamy expression...
Not really what I'd expect from a possum undergoing great discomfort...
It turns out that he wasn't convulsing...
He wan't sick...
He was scratching himself against the door frame... ha ha.
"Oh this is so good... I'm enjoying this so much...".
I felt like such an idiot. I'm mentally making the checklist - gloves, towel, carry cage, what's the quickest way to the vet's and he's scratching his rump.
Those possums. I think I know them and out they come with another surprise, ha ha.
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