I was relaxing, chewing on wood like a normal rat-tailed poky-faced possum. I loved the attic, with all of its beams on the roof. They all had bite marks, every single one of them. I was proud of my work, and I never wanted to leave that haven. I started biting on some rotten wood. It doesn't have the best texture, but the taste is outstanding. I was about to bite in, but fate had other plans for me.
I was yanked from where I sat, thrown into the air by an invisible force. I was going to die, going to be a splat on the attic floor, going to-
"Aw, there, there, little possum. Don't be chewing on wood, it's not good for you." A booming voice cooed the words, softly pronouncing each syllable with bright energy. I didn't want to admit it, but this was great. The giant passed their fingers through my splotchy fur. "Well, then," they said, "you've gotten quite dirty, haven't you?" They walked me down a lattice of wood, bringing me to their den. The rest is history.
Every day, now, I think of that day, and how I would have been so miserable still stuck in that attic. Now, I live in a beautiful wire mesh box that holds my food, water, and all necessities. If I yell, they immediately come running to save me from starvation and dehydration. It's amazing, living in a giant's den. You should really try it sometime.