A possum and two-year-old sour cream

We've been finding little clues that something had taken up residence in the garage—little logs of scat, little puddles of urine, that kind of thing, often a scrambling about when the garage door opens...

So today we decided that today was the day we'd clean out the garage, figure out where our little mystery buddy was hiding, and evict them. 

Andrew guessed it was a bunny...but only because he wanted it to be the least scary animal possible.

I told him that it couldn't be a bunny...or a squirrel...or a chipmunk...because the poop was simply too big. I hoped it wasn't a raccoon (mostly because I didn't want to have to corner a raccoon in my garage, but also because the scat was always loose, and raccoons tend to poop a more organized fashion—they make latrines, which they consistently use) and was fairly certain it wouldn't be a fox or anything like that, so I settled on an opossum. 

This was the best case scenario for cornering an animal in the garage because possums are not  threatening creatures at all.

Benjamin was the hero of the day—we sent him out into the garage to move some things around while Andrew took the little kids shopping and I attended some morning sessions of the JoLLE conference. I was soon interrupted by Benjamin, who rushed into the house loudly confirming that it was a possum and it's in the wheel barrow!

Hello, little friend!

Possums are interesting creatures because (1) they eat a lot of ticks, (2) they don't typically get rabies, (3) they are resistant to snake venom, (4) they have prehensile tails, and (5) they're the only marsupial in North America. They're good little friends to have around!

Just maybe not in the garage.

I will also mention that technically these North American marsupials are "opossums," but it is 100% correct to elide that initial syllable and simply call them "possums." No one will assume that you're talking about the Australian "possum" if you say "possum," just as no one will assume that you're talking about water buffalo when you say "buffalo" here in North America rather than the more technical "bison." It's all good. 

(Actually, editing to add more etymology about possums/opossums because the word is actually derived from proto-Algonquian words meaning "white dog," and we began dropping the initial "o" even before the term was borrowed to refer to Australia's own possum-like marsupials, which kind of looks like a North American opossum, but which is actually closer related to kangaroos. Given this etymology it is even more appropriate that both possum and opossum refer to North American o/possums (and, honestly, the phalangeriformes in Australia that we claim so enthusiastically are possums (no o-) are also sometimes called opossums. So it goes both ways in both places.)

(Buffalo, on the other hand, seems to come from Greek—boubalos, meaning "wild ox"—while bison...is also of European origin (Latin—bison—for "wild ox"?) and means basically the same thing, as far as I can tell.)

Here's our little friend riding in the wheelbarrow after being scooped up.

The garage is a mess. I'll admit it! Don't look too closely behind the red tricycle...

Benjamin thought this possum was so cute! He named it "Celestina" or something like that. See how she/he/it is gripping the side of the wheelbarrow with its little tail?

We just wheeled it to the edge of the driveway, tipped the wheelbarrow and...it scampered off into the backyard.

Did it make its way onto the back porch? Absolutely it did. But the kids quickly convinced it that that wasn't a good place to chill, either. It's making its way into the brush, I'm sure.

Now, what else did we find in the garage? Plenty of stuff. 

Benjamin immediately started putting things back in the garage after dumping the possum but I informed him that I fully expected the garage to be swept and tidied up. So we pulled Miriam into the mix and got busy putting things away and throwing things away and tidying things up. 

There was an odd collection of things behind the tricycle-stroller and cozy coupe: a bubble wand, a little box labeled "Phoebe's Treasures," a sour cream container, some sidewalk chalk, some pinecones. Just a sweet little mess.

Miriam started tidying that stuff up and was alarmed when she wasn't able to pick up the sour cream container. 

She, like the rest of us, had assumed some child had brought out a sour cream container to catch some bugs or lizards or something. But this was not an empty container! It was heavy! 

Benjamin the Brave picked it up, took it out of the garage, and peeled off the lid to see what was inside...and what was inside surprised us all...for inside that container was a beautifully intact foil lid...and under that foil lid was...an entire tub of sour cream.

It had just been sitting in our garage for literally who knows long, turning into the cluttered backdrop of our lives. The only clue for just how long it had been left sitting in the garage would be the "best by" date on the lid.

Friends...when I tell you...

04 SEP 2023

September 2023!?!?! 

This sour cream has been sitting in my garage since September—probably August—2023!!

How horrifying is that?! How many times have we gone out to the fridge outside? How many times have we taken out the stroller or the cozy coupe or the extension cords or the ladder? 

And we all just...none of us ever thought to pick up that sour cream container.

Truly incredible.