during a walk i came across a baby possum in the woods. he was badly injured, covered in flies and fly eggs, and mom was nowhere to be seen, so being a softhearted naturefag i ended up taking him in in the hopes he'll survive to monday, because the local wildlife management office is closed on weekends because of course it is (keep in mind i don't normally do this. i'm not a vet or experienced animal rehabilitator and if the timing wasn't fucking shit i would've rushed this possum to an actual professional). i threw together a shoebox nest, combed out as many eggs from his fur as i could, and set him in my closet so he could be somewhere relatively safe and quiet. during my panic, i told my mom while my stepfather was nearby in the hopes she had any suggestions about people i could contact, since she's similarly a softhearted naturefag.
this was a mistake. here comes stepfather going on and on about how i shouldn't have done anything, the possum's mom is going to abandon him now that he smells like human (even though she was already long gone but yeah sure) and he knows because he's totally seen this many times before, i should've just let nature take its course, etc. mom leaves for work soon after, stepfather is still sperging at me, and i get fed up enough to quietly tell him "okay, i heard what you said the first time". that was enough to make him huffy and storm off saying "i wasn't getting on to you, damn". he sulked the rest of the day after that. meanwhile my mom secretly kept tabs on the possum by asking how he was doing every couple hours, and she loved seeing the pictures i took of him. this shouldn't have been treated like a fucking secret in the first place but that's what happens when you marry someone who's more like a pet neanderthal than a husband.
as for any acts of kindness he's done? well, according to my mom's copium reserves, he's nice to animals because he threw cheap white bread out for the crows two whole times.
