Paw Some Possum
Our dogs exhibit many of the typical chow chow characteristics of independence. They act aloof and stoic. They won’t come when you call. They just stare at you, like “new bone, who dis?”
I often ask myself when they give me attitude, “are these actually dogs, or are they extremely bulky cats?” Watch them long enough, though, and you can catch glimpses of dog activity.
For example, one night, I saw Steffi playing with old furry sock in her mouth out in the yard. Oh, look she’s really a dog, and found the most disgusting piece of random garbage. I instinctively swatted it out of her mouth. At that point, the sock, which turned out to be a baby possum, proceeded to scurry away.
And, I’m the one who ruined play time?
In fact, every spring our beloved pups will suddenly wake us in the middle of the night with the urgency of an ambulance on fire, as they bark and howl, desperate to claw through the window to get to the local possum family out for a stroll.
Unfortunately, our neighbor decided long ago to let her rotting garage structure take its natural rotting course, making it the place to be for all hot, young wild critters in the area. This current possum family moved into her crumbling hoarder’s haven, and they haven’t stopped partying since, lounging anywhere on the block they please like they own the place. Which, technically, they do.
These local hooligans have become a constant source of entertainment for the dogs. Oh, the delights of noticing a furry critter sauntering down the front walkway. The whole experience moves to a more thrilling level when they’re out in the yard and catch mama possum foraging around the yard.
One night, they rocket-launched themselves out the back door into the thick of the hunt. I know from experience that when I see shadows where the dogs used to stand, I best go put a stop to some nonsense. When I caught up to them, they were sniffing like mad around the fence. I was relieved that the possum managed to escape, but to where? I looked with my phone light, and could not see it on the other side of the fence.
As I relaxed and stood up, I came face to face with the wild creature, standing on top the fence, a mere twelve inches away, staring at me with those accusing eyes.
As annoying and relentless I find these scary, hideous vermin, I don’t really want to change the circumstances for them. I could never hurt the animal, and relocating them to the forest seems too complicated, especially since the kids are only half-way through possum school.
Besides, these furry neighbors simply want to live their lives. They can’t help that a whole town full of humans decided to chop down trees, and put up shelter where they had already lived happily for decades, possibly centuries. Who do we think we are?
Lucky for us, they don’t seem bothered by us. Otherwise, they might join forces with all the woodland creatures to plan some elaborate scheme to terrorize us into leaving town for good. For example, they could stage a series of hauntings, or execute a massive ongoing heist of glasses and pens until we lose our minds.
Instead, they mind their own business, and co-exist, playing dead to mock the barking dogs and barking humans, or even playing “dirty sock” from time to time, but always, living their best possum lives.