I wanted a particular fur vest (faux fur of course) but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Ebay was proving unsuccessful and retail stores had sold out. After much hunting I found and purchased it on a fashion website. The day it was due to arrive in the post I ran home from work, hardly being able to contain my excitement. It was a rainy summers night and the asphalt smelt accordingly. As I found my way to the garage I saw a bright orange garbage bag. “Oh the postman must have put it in here to keep it safe from the rain” I deduced. I carried the bag to the door of the garage where I could get better lighting. My father was in there on the phone to a then unknown caller. As I put my hand into the bag and felt the soft fur I was rather confused. It was warm and it had a pungent odour, similar to my cousin’s notoriously smelly socks. Dad yelled and cut my fear short “Ruth get your hand out of the bag, it’s a dead possum, Bewdy (our dog) just killed, put it down!” I was horrified to a degree that’s ineffable. To make matters worse, my father had been on the phone giving a job reference for my older brother as in, his own son! The potential employer had heard the drama unfold and I can only imagine what scenarios she could’ve dreamt up! My brother didn’t get the job.
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