(A good approximation of Puddy's visage)
My friend Blue says possums don't like to share territory, so the best way to keep possums from moving into your attic, say, is to build a possum house for just one who will then keep all others away. Naturally, the day she passes on this information is when TWO possums decide to show up in succession at Casa de Jochild.
The first was Puddy, massive, contemplative (assuming she has a brain), with two white patches on her left rear flank. We had set out a sample snack for her: A few baby carrots, cherry tomatoes, and very old pecans. She munched through the pecans with evident zest, took one bite of a carrot and dropped it, and after almost two hours, shambled off into the night.
Half an hour later, I was startled to see her back. But then I realized it was half Puddy's size, without the patch: a juvenile? Perhaps her offspring? I have named him Pelham, Plum for short. Either of them seem to horrify Scout equally. She watches from behind the corduroy mustard chair, buried in shadow and with a gauzy curtain concealing her further.
Plum finished off the pecans but left the baby carrots as well. Margot says perhaps possums are not concerned about night vision. From what I've observed, they jolly well ought to be: Seems like all their sensory apparatus is appallingly dim. More likely they simply don't like carrots.