by Anthony Rowe
It was our first night at Leslie’s new house. As we looked out of the glass sliding door, a possum waddled by. I had been trained to look upon these creatures as varmints, but my sister views the world through a different set of spectacles than most. She looked at the possum and cooed, “Isn’t he cute?” I didn’t know how to respond.
The possum waddled away. Leslie grabbed some cat food, opened the sliding door, and filled up a metal dish on the patio with food. She closed the door, and the possum came back and began to eat, obviously realizing that there was nothing to fear at this human home.
We watched the possum eat. When the possum was done and had left, Leslie looked at me and asked, “Do you think I gave him enough?”
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