I live in a suburb of Boston that is not very rural.  Sure, we have trees and whatnot, but only because someone intentionally planted them.  There’s nothing "wild" about my burb, I can tell you that.

But last week my dog killed a possum.  The kids were a little traumatized but we explained it all away with more discussion of nature and predation, blah blah.  They’re fine.

But I found another mostly decomposed possum over the weekend while mowing the grass!  No wonder the dogs reeked!  They had been rolling around in decomposing critter!!

So tonight, I wasn’t all THAT shocked to find Buckaroo standing over his latest conquest - another flipping opossum!  I walked over with the flashlight and the thing was just laying there with its tongue lolling out of its mouth and all those gnarly needly little teeth.  Its fur was a mess, I guessed from where Bucky had beaten it up or shaken it or whatever.

So I trudged inside to get a bag.  But when I returned: NO POSSUM!!  We’ve been had by the oldest trick in the book!  He wasn’t dead at all!  I am sure that as soon as we turned our backs that animal got up and ran off.

I hope he learned his lesson and stays out of my yard.  Otherwise the dogs will surely have him for an evening snack.

Oi, and I bet they’ll roll around in it again.  ick.

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