Last night around midnight we were woken up by a weird crashing noise. Since all our light switches are in strategically horrible positions, I grabbed my handy flashlight and went off to figure out the source of the weird noise.
It was immediately obvious that our kettle was the source of the sound. It was lying in a puddle of water on the ground. And on our kitchen counter was a clumsy little visitor that kicked it there. Right there, in the beam of my light, sat a little possum. At that moment, the possum and I had the exact same thought: shit!
Even though Mr. P. was a cute little fella, we ware now in a difficult situation. I wanted Mr. P. to leave. And Mr. P. probably wanted the same. But it was painfully obvious that this was not going to be easy.
The initial plan for operation exit was fairly simple. Mr. P. needed to get back into nature. The closest way towards nature turned out to be our balcony. I grabbed my hat (for protection and style), opened the balcony door (making sure there were no further possums waiting outside to get in) and then looked for something to politely direct Mr. P. towards nature. The longest still wieldable item in our household turned out to be my surfboard. That’ll do. I grabbed my surfboard and gently pushed Mr. P. across the counter.
Mr. P. appreciated the gesture but was ultimately not convinced that the balcony door was a good exit strategy. We both agreed that the kitchen window (also leading out to the balcony) was a better option. Opening the window with the surfboard was a bit tricky, but a skateboard did the job just fine.
Job done! No… wait? Katja suddenly realised a fatal flaw in my initial plan. Even though our balcony is outside, it is not a great gateway into nature. Little Mr. P. could neither climb up because the roof has significant overhang, nor was the way down easily accessible for non-airborne animals. We watched Mr. P. explore the balcony for a while and then all agreed, that this was a dead end. We needed another plan for operation exit.
Usually, when we have visitors, they leave through the front door. Why not this time? So we needed to get Mr. P. to the front door (ideally the outside of the front door). But now we had a little problem. Mr. P. was on the balcony and I was afraid to scare him so much that he would dare a leap of faith and potentially hurt himself in the fall. I had to be more gentle this time, less scary. And I also wanted to avoid meeting Mr. Ps little claws.
First, we opened the exit path and cleared any obstacles or hiding places along the way. Then I grabbed the most fluffy, least intimidating towel in our household and approached Mr. P. We had a funny little dance around the balcony but ultimately, I managed to make a tiny little Possum burrito. But apparently, Mr. P. didn’t really enjoyed that either and escaped the burrito half way. No worries, though. We were far enough along the exit path that it wasn’t too much of an issue to show Mr. P. the front door. Mr. P. appreciated the option to politely retreat without losing any dignity through being wrapped and carried. We exchanged some polite words, wished each other a good night and then went seperate ways.
Even though this late night visit was a nice surprise, it ended up a bit stressful for everyone involved. And it opened up one final question: How the heck did Mr. P. get into our apartment in the first place?! Our best guess is through an open window. But we live in the 2nd floor. And during his stay, Mr. P. didn’t really show any extraordinary climbing skills. Mysterious…