Possom Blues

All the solutions that have been offered to me to resolve the issue of the possom seem to involve deadly force, loss of life, and guns. Charity for possoms is apparently at an all time low.

Granted, this is not an attractive animal - it does not have a winning personality, does not sing or dance, and after its fourth fall into the trash barrel, I'm beginning to suspect that it may have a learning disability, unfair as it would be to condemn an animal to stupidity and ugliness. Just as I am about to deposit a plastic bag of used kitty litter into the trash, I look down and there it is, looking up at me pitifully from the bottom of the empty barrel, unmoving and silent. Not again, I tell it with a sigh, I thought we had an arrangement.

I drop the kitty litter into another barrel and before I leave I turn the occupied barrel on its side. From the other side of the fence, I watch as the possom emerges slowly and meanders off into the shrubs. It's slow moving with a slight waddle to it's steps, almost but not quite comical.

There should be a song in this, I think to myself, a lazy, bluesy, slow song with a southern accent. Something along the lines of:

I got a possom in my trash can and I just can't sleep at night,
I could shoot him, trap him, even feed him poison but it don't seem right,
To take his little life because I just can't sleep at night.

I got a possom in my trash can and he's always on the prowl,
The dogs are goin' crazy, all they do is bark and whine and howl,
City life ain't easy with a possum on the prowl.