Supreme Frustration

No photos tonight – at least not of what I both wanted and intended to post.

Yesterday, after taking a walk that started in the late afternoon glow of the setting sun but ended in the early evening darkness that happens in November, Karl and I started up the walkway to our kitchen door. I was following Karl and was a few paces behind him. I saw Spartacus lunge toward our left, toward our small barn, which he sometimes does when we return home after a walk. It’s not uncommon for deer to congregate on our lawn, back by the barn. Usually, Karl unsnaps Spart’s harness as we enter our driveway, and he’ll take off toward the deer, feeling all manly as he chases away those very daunting four leggeds.

I heard a thump and, as I said, could see Spartacus try to bolt, yet got jerked by the leash. I presumed he’d seen a couple deer.

Suddenly I heard Karl exclaim, “No! Spartacus!” as the leash made the jagged sound it makes when trying to retract the lead. “It’s dead! Get away!”

A Shock On the Lawn

I heard all of this in the flash of the couple seconds it took me to catch up to them. I immediately saw the body laying underneath the bird feeders. It was shocking. The body of an animal larger than our largest cat was laying dead on our lawn.

Karl, meanwhile, was gathering up Spartacus and Sheila and calling them to go into kitchen. Sheila, being mostly blind and predominantly deaf, was oblivious. Spartacus, not unusually, was intrigued. He’s usually pretty good at listening to us, especially when there’s a sharp edge to our voices, so he was up on the porch, but was clearly conflicted.

I was appalled. My mind raced. What could have happened to this animal?! What could it have possibly eaten that would have poisoned it – and so close to our porch?! Karl and I were both upset that there was a death on our lawn.

Playing ‘Possum

And then it hit me. “Duh, Karl,” I exclaimed. “It’s a ‘possum! It’s playing dead!”

“No,” Karl immediately replied. “Look at it! Its mouth is hanging open and it looks bloated. It’s clearly dead!”

“But that’s what they do,” I began, handing him Sheila’s leash, which I’d been holding. She was still attached to it, but was in the process of walking up the steps onto the porch. “Here – would you take her?” I urged, trying to shove her leash into his hand. “I want to get a picture of it! I bet it’ll run away as soon as we go inside.”

We fumbled around passing the leash; I was hurrying, trying to pull my phone out of my pocket so I could document our discovery. Karl herded the pups into the kitchen and was simultaneously trying to keep Cletus, the ornery black and white cat of ours, from leaping through the doorway and off the porch, right onto the opossum.

He would not have it. He bounded out.

I shrieked, knowing instinctively that the opossum was still alive – and they can be ferocious. But the cat stayed on the porch, probably having had a run-in with this critter before.

Say Cheese!

I trained my iPhone toward the dead body, its razor-sharp pointy teeth clearly visible, it’s mouth unpleasantly slack-jawed and hanging open. Suddenly, it sat up, looked right into my eyes, and just stood there. I shrieked involuntarily. Not that I was afraid of it, but it took me completely by surprise – even though I’d known it was still alive!

I yelped to get Karl’s attention.

The animal was perfectly healthy. I then yelled again, hoping to scare it so it would fall over and go into its second act, so I could take a closer photo of it.

Off Into the Darkness

Nope. No dice. It waddled off confidently, turning the corner around the porch toward the tall grass at the edge of our property. It disappeared into the darkness.

There’s a message here. And it’s part and parcel of the frustration I’m feeling right now.

Hopefully, I’ll have remedied the situation and I’ll both explain the message I received from the talented thespian and post a couple photos.

(T-732)