"Oh no, Gary! Look!" a human voice whispered. "The poor thing is dead right on our welcome mat."
The humans retreated inside to find a shovel, leaving the door slightly ajar. Sensing his moment, Barnaby "resurrected" himself with lightning speed. He didn't wait for the shovel; he grabbed a mouthful of the cat food, scrambled up the nearest trellis with his prehensile tail, and vanished into the canopy of the oak tree. Possum
Barnaby stayed perfectly still, even when a giant rubber-soled boot nudged his side. I am a stone, he thought. I am a very ugly, furry stone. . Inside, however, his little heart was actually slowing down, a natural "superpower" that helped him survive the stress of being noticed. "Oh no, Gary
As he approached the porch, a sudden, blinding light cut through the dark. A Tall One had opened the screen door. Barnaby’s instincts, honed by millions of years of marsupial evolution, kicked in instantly. He didn't run. He didn't hiss. He simply… stopped. I am a stone, he thought