Beware of live trash

There was a time when the boys were too young to tackle the chore of taking out the garbage, but like many young children, they were fascinated by the garbage process. They liked to be out front on trash day so they could watch the big hulking truck in action.

One morning, the boys were playing outside on the front lawn, and I was in the living room, keeping an eye on them, when the garbage truck drew up to the curb. There was a moment of silence, then, through the front window, I heard a man’s voice say,” Boys, get your mother.”

The boys stood on the lawn, not knowing what to do. They were not supposed to talk to a stranger, even if he was the mighty and intriguing trash man.

“Boys, please go get your mother. I need to speak to her.”

I stepped outside and approached the man. “Is there a problem?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We’re not allowed to take live animals with the trash.”

“I don’t understand.”

He pointed to the large trash can. “There is a possum in this can. I can’t take it.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I pulled the can to the backyard as the garbage truck drove off. The boys crowded around, but at a safe distance. I carefully removed the lid to the container, and sure enough, there was a small, possibly a baby, possum lying on top of the garbage bags.

“He’s dead,” said my middle child.

“No, he’s playing possum,” said my oldest, with the confidence of a youngster who knows a book fact and is glad to put it to use in real life.

I told the boys to go into the house. They skedaddled to the kitchen where they could watch from the back windows. I kicked the can over, and the possum slid out onto the grass and remained immobile.

We checked on the back yard every few minutes, and soon the possum shook himself and made a beeline for the area behind our backyard shed.

At dinner, the boys delighted in telling Daddy about their adventure with the wild animal.

After listening to the story, Daddy thought for a moment, then said, “Oh, that’s what that was.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “That’s what what was?”

“The other night when I put the garbage bags in the trash can, I thought the garbage was looking at me. I figured it was just the streetlights reflecting off the plastic bags so I put the cover back on and came back inside.”

I was dumbfounded. “Honey,” I said, as sweetly as I could, “the next time the garbage looks at you, investigate further.”