My husband and I used to have a cleaning contract for one of Auckland’s best known tourist attractions – Kelly Tarlton’s. They’re generally better known for their aquatic residents rather than arboreal ones. We would do our cleaning very early in the mornings when the tourists were tucked safely up in bed.

One morning while I was emptying rubbish bins, I found one with the lid off. Not thinking anything about it, I stuck my hand in to pull out the bag. Only instead of a smooth plastic bag, I grabbed something furry.

Something furry, eating the remnants of a Big Mac.

I’d pulled it out by the tail, and it seemed in shock. It just hung there looking passively at me – swinging a little and blinking in the early morning light.

I screamed, and I think the Possum would have screamed too – if it hadn’t had a mouthful of burger! It swung up my arm and my first thought was ‘not the face.’ But the Possum was intent on escape. Still carrying his breakfast, he leapt over my head and disappeared up a Pohutukawa tree, with the last of the prized Big Mac in one paw.

Now, my husband will attest that I’m not prone to hysterics, but I was a nervous wreck. I had to go and have a strong cup of tea and a lie down. That little encounter has left me decidedly wary of Possums, and I’m pleased to say that I never saw one again, as long as I did the job.

Thanks Shona! Your Possum-pressie’s on the way.