Go get the kettle Mabel, Annie Fannie's done got us another Possum!
How many possums does a dog have to kill before I can advertise it as a "First-Rate huntin' dog...guar-an-teed to rid your yard of any varmints!" ?
I was washing dishes this morning, and looked out the kitchen window and there was Annie Fannie, taking her morning stroll around the back yard...not a care in the world...with a big ol' dead possum in her mouth.
I leaned in for a closer look HOPING against hope it was her stuffed raccoon, inadvertently outside, but alas, it was a big fat, long-tailed dead possum.
And she seemed so proud.
I opened the window and yelled "LEAVE!!!!!" (her 'drop it' command).
She opened her mouth, dropped her prize, and kind of did this lip-smacking thing.
I called my neighbor Cuff, and he came right away with some leather gloves and a garbage bag. Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!
Thank God for friends with pluck!
But recently, while washing dishes, I looked out on the yard and thought 'What is that puffy, gray thing? A big mushroom?' I was going to go poke it, but soon enough realized the dogs had gone and killed me another possum.
Why would a possum come into a yard with a six foot fence to join three energetic dogs? Are possums that dumb?
So........there I stood.
With a big ole dead possum in my yard.
It was too far gone for stew and dumplins.
I pondered leaving it, hoping the dogs might ignore it, but remembered how the previous dead possum had mysteriously changed locations in the yard numerous times.
And the dogs, with their gooshey kisses, can leap as high as my mouth....so the possum had to go.
I salute my friend, Daffnie, who...upon taking my urgent call...immediately put on her latex gloves and headed out the door. What a woman!! (I'm thinking her testosterone is a little high...)
Her husband was the one who actually buried the poor little stinky thing....thank God for good friends. (Again!)
Alas, the possum sage contined…
My daughter came into my bedroom at 11 pm saying, "Mom...we have a serious problem!"
Earlier that day, the dogs had killed another possum (ANOTHER possum) and my husband had double bagged the fuzzy corpse and we'd thrown it in the garbage. Looking back, I have no idea why he didn't bury it, but I trust it was the right decision at the time. However, at THIS time, the driveway and surrounding vicinity smelled like a rotting corpse and the bagged possum had to go!
So, I held my breath and put the plastic bag into a grocery sack and tossed it quickly in the trunk of my Honda. There I was, driving around town with a dead possum in the trunk of my car and the dang garbage bags were NOT holding in the smell.
As I drove past the Kroger and by the Taco Bell, I wondered 'just what does one do with a stinking dead animal?'
I thought of driving over a rural bridge and tossing it into the creek below, but I had visions of Wayne Williams and the missing and murdered children in Atlanta and could just see SWAT teams rushing the car, wanting to know what dead thing I had just thrown over the bridge.
Then, I thought of tossing it into some woods. But that seemed too much like littering, with the grocery sack and two plastic bags. And I sure as shootin' wasn't going to 'de-bag' Mr. stinky.
So, I drove.
My gas light came on and I turned into a station. As I stood there, pumping gas, the first whiff hit my nose. Oh Lordy, I can smell him through THREE bags AND the trunk.
I eyed the dumpsters by the building but they had the big, black lids closed. I didn't really want to be touching the lids to a dumpster. Ew.
Then I saw it.
A lone trash can over by the far corner of the parking lot. That was it. The resting place for my rotting nemesis.
I removed the bag from the trunk, after filling my lungs with one long, deep inhale from around the back of the pumps. I quickly went to put the bag in the trash can but it wouldn't fit in the round opening and any shoving on the solid mass was giving me the heaves. I finally lifted the lid to the can and pushed in the bag. Goosebumps rippled up my arms.
Did I feel guilty? Yes.
Did I wonder about it as the temperature soared into the 90s? Uh huh.
Was I going to do a drive-by whiff test later in the day? Maybe.
I went home and had my yard sale, minus the stench, but the question remains; what do you do with a dead animal? (I think next time it's going in the middle of the street. That way the city can deal with it)