We stayed busy this drizzly Saturday with little projects here and there all day. Mid-morning found Greg in the van rearranging carseats. Tyler and I went out to visit and admire his progress, and Tyler took the opportunity to step out into the driveway to play in the sprinkles and stomp in the puddles.
I saw him stop mid-stomp and mid-sentence to look over at our front porch and say, "There's a kitty over there!"
I stepped forward to see what Tyler saw, and what I saw was a grayish brown ball of fluff curled up on a rubber mat on our front porch.
In about a 3 second time-span, my thoughts went like this:
There is a kitty over there!
Oh my. Kitty looks dead.
Wait a minute...that's not a kitty.
That's a possum.
After we all took a look at the dead possum (after Greg had poked it with a stick to confirm its deadness), the man o' the house had the fun task of loading the thing up and hauling it off.
Any time Greg goes anywhere on a Saturday, it's pretty much a given 1, 2, or 3 boys will go with him. But this morning we both said, 'no'. This trip just seemed simpler and more expedient without tagalongs.
And it's a good thing he went alone.
Before he'd been gone too long I got a phone call, and I could hear them before he even told me.
He had been instructed by the city to take the poor ol' possum to a place near the animal shelter. And while at the shelter, he discovered a pet carrier full of wet, shivering, fussing....kittens.
Oh my heart wanted one. But not five. And not now. But our kind Daddy contacted the folks that could get those kitties out of the rain and supplied with food and water.
And boy oh boy were we glad he ran that errand alone!
Can you imagine leaving with a dead possum and coming home with 5 kitties? One for each kiddo, right? Ha!
We may be crazy, but we're not that crazy!