I'm relatively blind in my natural state without the aid of contacts or glasses. So I wonder closer to get a better look and find there's an opossum on my fence.
Yes that's an o-possum. Possums don't live in North America even though many people mistakenly refer to the opossum as the possum. I know this because, you see, opossums and I go way back. One summer in college, I was taking a summer class and doing some research at the same time. I spent a lot of time down in the basement of Taylor Hall. One day, an opossum comes sauntering into my office, catching me by surprise. My audible gasp managed to scare the living bejeezus out of it, and it promptly turned tail and
Pixie and I are at the back fence and she is very infuriated at this point, standing up on two hind legs crying her shrill, "Let me at 'em! Let me at 'em!" I was rather amused and a little embarrassed she might wake up the neighbors. It takes a few attempts to call her off and get her back inside. I rally Travis outside to check things out.
Pixie was inside the house watching me from the sliding door with Travis. As I walked towards the opossum with a stick, she became rather concerned and started shaking, whining and just losing it in general. The opossum, possibly also living-bejeezus-less with fear, utterly refused to move even as I poked its tail with my stick.
Travis came out to take a few pictures and participate in the amusement of finding an opossum.
Travis: "So why do you think we find opossums so ugly."
Me: "The naked tail. And general likeness of a blown-up-rat."
I'm happy to report it recovered from its temporary paralysis-of-fear and waddled away some 10 minutes after we all went back inside. Pixie has not completely recovered. She was still barking a little towards the back fence this morning in indignation though there was nothing up there.