I’ve been leaving a pan of birdseed out at night, and in the early morning, to sort of atone for the grief my younger, larger dog, Miss Cleo, gives the birds and geckos in our yard.
The first night I put it out, I found footprints in it just a few hours later – not bird-feet, but something obviously mammalian. I’ve suspected that we have a resident possum for a while, because I’ve heard barking, and seen a shadow about the size of my chihuahua, but definitely a rodent, shinnying up the back fence.
Fuzzy was away the first night I put out the seed, and it was nearly dawn when we finally connected via IM, because he’d been in the air, and then had no battery left on his phone.
“I love you,” I said to him in text. “I’m glad you’re on the ground, and I hope you sleep well. I’m going to bed now. There are footprints in the birdseed.”
It’s really cool to have a spouse who doesn’t think you’re completely batty when you make statements like that.