Opossum Resuscitation

How are all my Facebook friends? About as bored as I am? I am really getting tired of doing yard work and house repairs. The yard is beginning to look too pristine and I am afraid I will catch myself washing and waxing my lawn mower. Doing home repair is downright costly. I changed a neon light over my kitchen sink and broke the spout on the tap. I then had to go buy a $134.00 new kitchen sink water tap. I am severely OCD, so I must curtail myself.

I decided to share what I deemed to be a funny incident but some of you will not think so. I was aroused from my comatose state of obnoxious meditation by a shriek from my wife. I was hailed to come quickly as if someone was breaking into our front door. I arrived to see my wife pointing semi hysterically at a tiny withing animal in the middle of my kitchen floor. My wife lamented that our dog, Scout, had brought a live rat into the house.

Being the consummate male, I declared it wasn’t going to attack her and to calm down. Besides it wasn’t a rat because it was too small, at best, maybe a mouse. I delicately picked it up by the tail and examined the beast. It was wet like just being born or my dog mouthing it. It had its eyes closed also so I was a little perplexed as to what it was or if it had just been born. All the while my dog was making frantic leaps at trying to reclaim his prize, all to the discombobulation (I couldn’t get disconcernation to work) of my wife.

I at once became a homicide detective and walked outside with my wife in tow, to investigate. I immediately reconnoitered the crime scene and noticed a dead animal in the grass. I pointed it out to my wife and was astounded she couldn’t see it. I guess it’s a male thing. It was an opossum or what a back woods redneck would call a possum. I noticed several other tiny withering things and deduced it was a female possum and her young.

I would remind everyone that possums are marsupials and carry their young in a pouch. I was at this moment perplexed because I didn’t know if my dog had scattered the young ones or had they deserted their dead mother. This was another problem being I wasn’t sure the mother was dead because possums play possum (pretend to be dead).

I then began what I considered a postmortem examination of the possum. I noticed one of the young ones was still attached to its mother’s tit. This would be the normal until they are weaned and then they ride atop the mother instead of in her pouch. People! Think Kangaroos please, it may make sense.

My wife then began her rescue phase and asked if we could save them. I told her no because the mother was probably dead, and the babies were too young to survive. You can’t bottle feed a possum; they literally attach themselves to individual tits until weaned. We gathered the little ones up and put them in a box. There were four of them. I then tried to decipher if the mother was dead or playing dead.

Upon examination of the carcass I observed puncture wounds and hair missing. I really didn’t want to handle a dead possum let alone a live one. I poked and prodded it and determined my dog had pretty much killed it. He has a murderous streak being he didn’t like my chickens either. I used to have chickens but when I brought him home from Florida, I had to get rid of them. Except for the last one who avoided capture until the dog caught it. Wasn’t much left of that rooster.

My dog is not evil. He is my grand dog. I had given him to my grandson and daughter from a litter I had from my dog, Guerra. My daughter went to Egypt and my grandson went off to college, so he again became mine. He is most assuredly different than his mother and sister whom I had raised. Scout is all male and hyper to the max. He is a hunter and is keen in every sense of the word. The word predator suits him to a tee, but he is also loving and affectionate with me and my wife. He has adjusted well and there aren’t even any food issues with his mother and sister.

There is no one to blame except maybe the mother possum. Possums usually climb a tree or find a dark spot or eve to spend the day. They really shouldn’t be on the ground during the day where my dog Scout could find her. My dog was just being a good dog, so I praised him for his diligence in protecting his realm.

Life is hard! I then proceeded to dispatch the female possum and she was indeed dead. I then dispatched the young ones being I didn’t want them to suffer and die from starvation or exposure. Compassion is sometimes an apt word for being kind and to prevent suffering. I then took the possum carcasses up the hill behind the church, dug a hole and buried them. I suppose a coyote may dig them up if he smells them and feed his young with them. Such is the circle of life; dead things provide food and life for other things. Nothing in nature is wasted. Humans are the only animals that kill and waste without necessity. I have been a hunter all my life, just like my dog. I processed and ate everything I killed, even some tiny woodpeckers but that is another story. Enjoy!