Surprising events in the mansion on the mount unfold ...
too many clues spoil the broth, although yours truly
suspected a third nigger in the wood pile ( pardon the
political incorrectness), both of us being exhausted from
the last few days of slash and burn policy before it turns
to total fire bans, we braved the hour's drive home in the
storm.
Last night, another call from the alarm people, dining room
again! So, back we go this morning for an exhaustive search
of the fugitive. All possible dark places were investigated to
no avail ... not until it started raining dictionaries from the
high shelf above the doorway did I hit pay dirt.

The poor little mite was hiding behind the books and I had
to act quickly before he brought down the whole set of the
hundred year old Chamber's Encyclopaedia.
The Prof obligingly fetched a tall ladder, we have 12'6"
ceilings and possums love heights. I managed to lift him out
of his hidingplace but he also managed to latch onto my arm.
Nothing major, but I did let him go, and go he did ...
jumped down like lightning, across the room and squeezed
himself into the inch and a half space between a bookcase and
the wall. Luckily part of his tail was visible and so, grabbing
the tiger firmly by the tail ( now wearing rigger's gloves which
the Prof had forced upon me), I hung on for dear life while he
pulled the fully laden bookcase a little from the wall.
Voila! Quasimodo (not the most flattering photo of yours truly
ever seen) holding the catch of the day!

Possums have prehensile tails, so it was a safe and secure
way to hold him.
Here is a close up of his beautiful feet, just like ours, with
four fingers and a thumb.
This was the fourth possum episode we have sustained, the
first time we did not find it tor two weeks until I finally located
the emaciated little thing in the bottom of the grandfather clock!

All photos can be enlarged.