We were hauling some trash for a neighbor; when we went to put it into one of the trash recepticles, we were shocked to find a baby oppossum in the bottom of the can.  

I wanted to reach in and pick it up, but my friends warned me that it was a wild animal and all wild animals were dangerous (not to mention, possibly rabid).  Maybe they had common sense, but I wanted to help it: it looked so scared, tiny, and helpless!

When I told my parents about it, they agreed with my pals.  They told me not to touch it and to leave it alone; it's mamma probably wasn't that far behind.  Still, I couldn't help thinking about the baby oppossum, even when I went to lie down for the night.  I would close my eyes or try to clear my brain, but all I could think about was that stupid baby oppossum.

All I could do was hope that it would survive the night and that nothing would get at it and eat it.  I said a little prayer for the baby; I felt stupid praying for a helpless, dumb animal, but I couldn't help myself.  I knew from Sunday school that God had made all the living creatures on this earth, and that included oppossums.  So because of that, I found myself caring for the outcome of this oppossum.

That was the last thing I had on my mind befere my eyelids grew heavy and finally closed in sleep.  

When I awoke the next morning, the first thing I did was dash outside to the trash cans to see if my little "furry friend" was there, but he was gone.  I was hoping the mamma oppossum came back for her baby and that nothing got it, but I didn't see any traces of fur or blood, much to my relief.  Small blessings and answered prayers, I suppose.  All I could do was hope that it would stay close to its family and not get into any more trouble.