I'll admit that I was on the wrong side of a recent argument with some friends. In the waning hours of an outstanding backyard barbeque, I had a dangerous brush with a possum.
Inspired by several glasses of liquid courage, I intended to approach the possum and pet it. I had two objectives to accomplish: 1) to find out what a possum pelt feels like and 2) to appear in a dramatic photograph with said possum.
The horrified screams of the other partygoers interruped my plans. They apparently assigned a different level of risk to my plan, and I was scolded for my possum-foolery. I was envisioning a Crocodile-Hunteresque interaction with the glory of nature; all they saw was a trip to the emergency room to mend a mangled hand.
We argued for a while about true danger of a possum encounter, and eventually the critter slinked off into the night. On that note, if anyone here is missing a cat, someone may have found your pet.