Not Just Playing Possum



Nope, y'all, he's really dead.
Andrew found this poor fellow lying peacefully (well, except for the ants and flies that wouldn't leave his carcass alone) in our front yard on Friday.
He (Andrew, that is) ran inside to find me just like he used to do when he was a little boy. At first I thought he was trying to put something over on me but he assured me there was really "a great big old dead possum layin' up right in the middle of our yard."
It looked as though he had simply chosen that particular spot -- on our lawn! -- to lay down and die of whatever ailed him.
For verification that it would not be a complete waste of energy, not to mention precious brain cells (of which I have none to spare) to follow Andrew outside, I looked to Erica, who had trotted in on her brother's heels. Eyes wide, she nodded lugubriously in tacit endorsement of his claim, and I believed.
Of course I grabbed my camera! The tiniest burst of excitement occurring in or around my humble bailiwick must be faithfully captured because you never know who might need a good face-cracking yawn.
A perfunctory look-see from the considerable height of our front porch confirmed that while there was indeed a motionless gray animal with a pointy snout, prehensile claws (visible even from where I stood) and a long ropy tail situated on the grass, Andrew had partially exaggerated (NO! Andrew? It can't be ...). The possum wasn't all that big but he certainly was good and dead. He wasn't technically in the middle of the yard, either ... he was sort of up under the crape myrtle tree that adorns an area near the steps.
His body showed no signs of trauma as from being hit by a car or attacked by another animal. It looked as though he had simply chosen that particular spot -- on our lawn! -- to lay down and die of whatever ailed him.
I guess we'll never know what motivated the possum to choose our yard as his ersatz deathbed, or the factor(s) that contributed to his unfortunate and apparently untimely demise. We can only speculate.
Maybe he was simply tired of living.
It happens, y'all.
At any rate his (or her ... no, I did not get gender-curious) remains have been carted off to the garbage dump ... no proper burial coming when you walk on four legs and die on our property unless we have previously named you, I'm afraid. Also no possumtail stew is on the menu as we do not consume possum in any form in our family. We're what you might call picky eaters.
Only four pictures (click on his wee head to see the other three) remain to memorialize the possum's passing. Be forewarned that one is a closeup of his toenails.
Later when I showed TG the pics (on my small camera screen) because he hadn't been home at the time we made the discovery and held the impromptu postmortem photo shoot, he asked: "He wasn't just playing possum, was he?"
Big grin.
Nope. I'm afraid this here possum is history.
And that's a wrap.


Reader Comments (11)
Ewwww....how awful. I guess I didn't think that animals, much less possums, died of natural causes. Poor little fella. Oh well, maybe he's better off where he is now. Good post.
He's better off in the garbage dump? Audrey ... what could you be thinking! BWAAAAAAHAHA ....
Oh, poor little guy! :(
He could have been hit by a car - I've seen animals with not a mark on them, but the accident was witnessed. A smart crack on the head can do it, and give them just enough time to wander off the roadside. Hopefully it was that rather than disease that sent him off to the garbage tip.
The more I think of it, Jay, the more I believe that's what happened: a car hit him but not badly enough to kill him. It's too bad because he was probably just trying to get across the road to smell our flowers!
Um....ewwwww
I had a dead rat in my kitchen ('The Cookie Monster is Dead)', but I didn't take no pictures of its dead carcass!
Seriously, ewwwww
I read all about your rat, Daniel! But it was a slow news day here and one does what one has to do. The possum was definitely interesting to look at ... LOL!
I wish you'd eaten it. I've always wondered if possum tastes like chicken.
Well you know what to do if you really want to know ... LOL!
Hmm. I would say "poor little guy" but seeing as we have an abundance of those dumb animals overtaking our Washington villages, I have not much sympathy. And yes, I do mean "dumb animals". You'd think they'd learn to quit crossing the road in the middle of the night, on the busiest streets imaginable. No wonder a small little rap on the head kills them, they have no brain to begin with, and what little peanut-sized brain they have is no match for a good thumping.
You know I'm one of the ones who feels sorry for these little guys; the exact opposite of how I feel about stupers! (short as you know, for those patently stupid persons). I read once that the headlights of cars actually make them think it's the moon so they move towards it, and you know the rest of the story. I prefer to think this opossum died of natural causes.
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