Possum Hunter

At around 10:00 pm last night, I let Hendrix out.

Gina was in the yard with him, and called to me to bring the keys down and let our tenants' dog Uno out, too. So I did. Uno is a big friendly lab/pit bull mix. He's extremely happy and not the least bit aggressive, but when he wants his 100 pound plus body to go somewhere, it usually does.

So Uno comes into the yard and immediately heads for the dog run in the back of the yard, barking, and jumping up against the back fence. This is not an uncommon occurrence. There seems to be no bigger offense a neighbor can commit than to, gasp, walk his or her dog in our alley. Can you believe the nerve of some people?

Anyway, I immediately noticed that this commotion was for a different reason, namely that there was a huge possum perched on our back fence, some seven feet above the ground, but just inches above the jaws of a lunging Uno. Not one to feel left out, Hendrix too was barking and jumping, although I'm not sure he even knew what he was barking and jumping about.

So from my vantage point on the porch I can see this R.O.U.S hanging on for dear life, but Gina can't... until she gets to the back of the yard and comes nearly face to face with said R.O.U.S. Which sends her literally screaming back towards the house. Screaming. I get the hose and turn it on the dogs to get them away from the fence.

Our elderly neighbor to the west emerges to see what the screaming and barking is about. Gina has taken up a position as far away as she can get from our furry visitor, who is still perched on the fence, looking dazed and pissed off. I requisition a 12 foot piece of wooden trim that is sitting by our garbage can and start to poke, prod, and eventually bang away at the beast in an attempt to get him to jump down into the alley.

But he's having nothing of it. He bites the wood, he grabs the fence tighter, he even wraps his spindly tail around my weapon as I try to push him. Next, I try shining a bright flashlight in his eyes. No luck. He's now entrenched at one end of the fence and looks content to fight me from there. So I bring out the big guns: the hose.

Now there's a soaking wet possibly rabid definitely angry obviously resilient feral marsupial running back and forth the length of our 25 foot back fence as I chase its path with the hose. I felt like I was playing a carnival game.

Finally, the thing relents and disappears over the fence into the alley and I'm left feeling like an urban Steve Irwin. Although I guess Steve would have gone over, picked the possum up, antagonized it with his fingers, and then expressed amazement that it bit him.

There's always next time for that.

Joe Goodkin: Possum Hunter.

jbg