Thursday, June 3, 2010

What the Dog (Didn't) Did

I know you're all dying to know what happened with my dog, Cassidy, and the opossum. I spent most of the morning trying not to think about the scuffle that took place in the heavy brush at the way back of my lawn last night.

It was probably 1 o' clock or so this afternoon by the time I heaved a big sigh and started the long walk to the back of the yard to go a' corpse hunting. I tiptoed into the underbrush and started scanning for a little white crescent opossum body.

It wasn't there.

Oh thank the good lord, there was no broken-necked, dead opossum in my back yard.

All of this leaves me extremely impressed by the opossum's skills. It takes some serious chutzpah to play dead like that little motherfucker did.

See, last night at about nine, Cassidy started barking. Not barking like, "Hey, I see somebody in their house, and that's totally not allowed, so I'm going to bark at them all night," but "Danger! Danger! Danger! Giant rat!"

I walked back to her where I could tell by her posture that she had cornered something. (Although technically the opossum wasn't actually in a corner. I think it is a failure of the English language that there is no phrase for cornering an animal on a straight away.)

At that time, Cassidy was just on alert status, practically in a point position. Then I showed up. I tried to grab her and all hell broke loose. Evidently sensing my imminent demise by opossum death rays, Cassidy leaped into action and a full-blown melee broke out, complete with barking and growling (Cassidy) and hissing (the opossum), and the thrashing fight moved a few feet away from me.

I had to walk through a thorn tree and around a bush to get to where Cassidy was standing over the opossum. And here is where you need to be really impressed by that little fucker's strength of character. He was collapsed on his side, just laying there, for all intents and purposes looking completely void of life, staring up at a 50-pound dog hovering over him barking, barking, BARKING!

And he just laid there. Not moving.

Nerves. of. Steel, people.

I guess they call it playing opossum for a reason.

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