“It’s Margaret,” he explained. “I’ve got to answer.”
I nodded in reluctant understanding and leaned against the sofa while he answered the call.
“Hey, Margaret. What’s going on?”
I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation of course, but Mason nodded as he listened, making noises that sounded sympathetic.
“Yeah, of course,” he said. “We’ll be right over.” When he hung up, he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “She needs us.”
“Sounds like it,” I said, suppressing a disappointed sigh. “What’s going on?”
“She heard noises in the attic that scared her. She wants us to come investigate. Might be a cat, she said.”
Less than ten minutes later, we were parking in Margaret’s driveway. She was standing on the porch and as we got out of the car, she waved.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “I think there’s a cat trapped in the attic.”
I gave her a genuine smile. “No problem. We’re always happy to help.”
Mason and I followed her inside. She took us to the pull-down attic panel, and Mason got to work, tugging the panel and unfolding the ladder.
“I’ll go,” I said.
With a frown, Mason shook his head. “You stay here, I’ll go investigate.”
“No need for two of us up there. I’ll let you know if I need help.” I climbed the ladder and made my way up to the attic. The floor was composed of sheets of thick plywood nailed to the rafters, and I carefully made my way around the boxes crowding the attic, looking for the source of the noise. I heard something, a scraping sound, and I followed it, calling out for the cat.
“Here, kitty,” I said gently. “Come on. You’re safe now.” No cat emerged, but the sound stopped for a second. Once I was quiet, it started up again. I crept toward the noise, avoiding the boxes, pausing every few seconds to listen.
I got to a point where I was sure I was close, the sound on the other side of a small stack of boxes. I shifted the boxes, sliding them off to the side, and was met with a pair of reflective eyes that definitely didnotbelong to a cat.
Backing away quickly, I called out for Mason. “Uh, Mase?”
“You find it?”
“Sort of. Can you come up here?”
“On my way.” A few moments later, he was in the attic, standing next to me. “What’s going on?” His voice was a whisper.
“Not a cat,” I said quietly. “But it’s right over there.”
He frowned, brow dipping, and slid the boxes aside. The animal hissed and bared its teeth before freezing and going stiff. “An opossum,” he said, startled.
“Yep.”
“Well shit.”
I laughed. “Exactly.”
Margaret’s voice called up from the bottom of the ladder. “Did you catch her?”
“Not yet,” I called back. Dropping my voice quieter, I turned to Mason. “What are we going to do?”
He shrugged. “Hell if I know. Catch it?”
“With what? Our bare hands? What if it has rabies?”
Mason laughed and bumped my shoulder with his own. “They can’t carry rabies.”
