Life in the woods is always interesting.

I went out on the porch to feed our assorted hound-dogs and looked down at this image.


No, he’s not playing dead. He’s actually dead.  To quote Monty Python (for afficianados), ‘this is an ex-opossum.’

So I started wondering, ‘what’s going on here?’  Is it a crime scene?  Is it a tragic accident? Why did our animals attempt to bury the critter under dog food?’

Last year I walked onto our back deck to feed the cats and between both large felines was a large opossum.  He was eating cat food with them.  He wasn’t afraid of me and they weren’t afraid of him.  It was like the cats said, ‘hey, this is Ricky.  He’s sleeping over!’

As such, my insightful wife suggests that the ex-opossum was accustomed to cat food but choked on a large hunk of Gravy Train.  No autopsy is planned.

I have perhaps a more sinister theory.  Actually, a couple.

Dogs sending a message to other opossums.  ‘This is dog fud.  Possumms stay way or you get dead too.’

Cats sending message. (Both cats are sizeable half-Manx felines who love to hunt.)  ‘We are not romantically interested in any opossums.  Stop making lewd suggestions or we feed you to the dogs also.’  (Notice that their grammar is much better than the dogs.)

Or this:  our dogs are saying ‘this dog fud sux.  Shud taste more lak this rat thing.’

However you spin it, yesterday was a rough day for the opossum kingdom.

Rest in peace little marsupial dude. I’ll be flinging you into the forest shortly.

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