Armadillo in the Bathroom
One morning a few years ago I was up very early and in the downstairs shower. We lived in a wooded area in northern Illinois. As I emerged from the shower my wife cried out to tell me there was an Armadillo! in our upstairs bathroom who had frightened her. I sprinted upstairs to save the damsel in distress, throwing on the first garment I saw which was her very short kimono. I looked like porky pig, with my lower 1/2 exposed.
As I ran upstairs I realized that there are no armadillos in northern Illinois. It must either be a raccoon or an opossum.
(Not our bathroom, just similar photos. I did not stop for photos during the fracas)
I hoped it was an opossum, since a raccoon is a lot tougher. It was in fact an opossum, very unhappy, with lots of sharp teeth. How was I going to get him out of the bathroom?
I hit on the idea of getting a broom to drag him out from next to the commode, and then trap him with a plastic laundry basket, and then slide a board underneath the basket.
A wiser man would have stopped to get fully clothed with heavy garments before engaging in close combat. No one has every found me to be wise. Adrenaline had hit and I was in full combat mode, taking action and not thinking.
I was worried about my exposed condition as I closed in on my friend the opossum with his amazing array of sharp small teeth. I envisioned him biting that which was closest to him as we closed into close combat. Fortunately my plan worked like a charm, and I captured Mr. Possum with the laundry basket. 
I carried him carefully down the stairs, keeping one hand on top of the basket and the other hand under the board, keeping Possum trapped. I had to set him down to open the door.
I then picked him up and moved outside, in my bare feet and skimpy porky pig outfit, into about two inches of snow. I set the laundry basket down intending to overturn it and release Mr. Possum.
But Possum did not understand the plan. As soon as I set him down inside the laundry basket he bolted for freedom. I should have let him and the laundry basket go but for some reason I thought I had to chase him down and recover the basket.
So, the laundry basket is proceeding across the new snow with me in hot pursuit, running barefoot through the snow in a skimpy porky pig outfit, naked from the waist down,
As I pursued Possum I hoped that the neighbors or the police did not observe me. It would have been a bit hard to explain. And I was the Village Manager of our small town of University Park, making it doubly humiliating.
Fortunately Possum ran into a tree, freeing himself and running off into the woods. I grabbed the basket and ran back to the house, so far as I know unobserved by neighbors or police.
How did he get into the home? We lived in the woods. We must have left the garage door open and he came into the garage. Then we must have left the door from the garage to the home open, allowing Possum to come and visit.
Adios, Possum, I hope you are doing well. Live long and prosper
Craig Hullinger
___________________________
My dad brought an opossum home one night when I was a child. He saw it by the bus stop at 115th and Spaulding in the early a.m. upon returning from work. He kicked it, it went into its hibernate mode, Dad picked it up and we put it in a big cage we had which was made from cot matters spring and hardware cloth. It stayed about a week, we were a little intimidated by those razor-sharp teeth. We did release it. My Dad was always an interesting character.
Tom Schildhouse_________________________
We found an albino opossum in our garage when I was small. My father captured the cute little white guy. We took him to the Little Red School House where they kept him for some time.
Craig Hullinger
(Not our bathroom, just similar photos. I did not stop for photos during the fracas)
I hit on the idea of getting a broom to drag him out from next to the commode, and then trap him with a plastic laundry basket, and then slide a board underneath the basket.
A wiser man would have stopped to get fully clothed with heavy garments before engaging in close combat. No one has every found me to be wise. Adrenaline had hit and I was in full combat mode, taking action and not thinking.
I was worried about my exposed condition as I closed in on my friend the opossum with his amazing array of sharp small teeth. I envisioned him biting that which was closest to him as we closed into close combat. Fortunately my plan worked like a charm, and I captured Mr. Possum with the laundry basket.
I carried him carefully down the stairs, keeping one hand on top of the basket and the other hand under the board, keeping Possum trapped. I had to set him down to open the door.
I then picked him up and moved outside, in my bare feet and skimpy porky pig outfit, into about two inches of snow. I set the laundry basket down intending to overturn it and release Mr. Possum.
But Possum did not understand the plan. As soon as I set him down inside the laundry basket he bolted for freedom. I should have let him and the laundry basket go but for some reason I thought I had to chase him down and recover the basket.
So, the laundry basket is proceeding across the new snow with me in hot pursuit, running barefoot through the snow in a skimpy porky pig outfit, naked from the waist down,
As I pursued Possum I hoped that the neighbors or the police did not observe me. It would have been a bit hard to explain. And I was the Village Manager of our small town of University Park, making it doubly humiliating.
Fortunately Possum ran into a tree, freeing himself and running off into the woods. I grabbed the basket and ran back to the house, so far as I know unobserved by neighbors or police.
How did he get into the home? We lived in the woods. We must have left the garage door open and he came into the garage. Then we must have left the door from the garage to the home open, allowing Possum to come and visit.
Adios, Possum, I hope you are doing well. Live long and prosper
Craig Hullinger
___________________________
Tom Schildhouse
_________________________
We found an albino opossum in our garage when I was small. My father captured the cute little white guy. We took him to the Little Red School House where they kept him for some time.
Craig Hullinger
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