Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Happy Happy Possum!

You'd think we lived in Hicksville to hear about all the woodland creatures we have not only in our immediate neighborhood (which appropriately is called "The Trails of Edmond") but also in our very own backyard. Edmond, OK is a beautiful partly wooded community just north and east of Oklahoma City - infact, it's so close to the city housing that some of the bordering addresses have mixed utilities, cable services, and sewage/garbage. You could live in OKC and go to Edmond schools, or live in Edmond and pay Oklahoma City electricity or gas bills. Edmond probably has 60,000 people and more SUVs than the number of people currently residing within the boundaries. I joking call my good neighbors Edmonite Socialites - and they call me silly! We smile a lot - politely.

In my backyard I have a 5 acre tract of land which is owned but never occupied by anyone. It extends just behind my backyard and goes way out into another 40 acre tract of land that I believe has a house somewhere in the trees - I smell the owners barbequeing, but never really see them. Last night before I actually turned out the lights to finally turn in I heard the calling of a hoot owl - but what caught my EYE was the big, fat, old, scraggly possum walking ever-so-slowly across the path of my fenceline - trying to make his way into the woodpile that rests against my fence. (The same woodpile we don't ever interrupt for purposes of lighting a fire in our wood-burning fireplace because - you guessed - the possum lives in it)

So, I decided to name the possum last fall just because he was stealing my would-be warmth. We call him Boss. He's the boss of the backyard - and my dogs know this. Although they chase him, they always catch him, and he spits at them and slowly bares his old and yellow fangs - he has no eyesight left and no ambition to do anything about defending himself if push came to shove. He just hopes he smells bad enough I guess - it must be working - that or the dogs simply know when to respect age.

Well, today I decided to give my burnt cookies to the old rag. He deserved them - he's been patient with me as I have tried to remember to turn the timer on, forgetting every single time, and yes - every single time I burn the damn things he's been hopeful that the dogs won't be the only benefactor. Today was his lucky day! 24 blackened chocolate chip munchies fell from the sky over his abode - I could hear him, literally hear him squealing with joy and/or annoyance - either way he ate them.

NO, I won't take him to the vet if he gets diahrhea. I think after millions of years on this earth the possum, and possibly the cockroach, have developed their digestive systems to the evolved state to where they can handle a few charcoaled brisketed confections! Before I reached the house with my empty pan (the image of 24 baked in cookies lining the pan) my little friend came out to follow me into a part of the yard that he rarely ventures to - perhaps to say thanks. Perhaps he simply wants more. We've decided that Purina makes a better diet for him. We'll throw a little his way in the morning just after the mourning doves, deer, and humming birds feed - squirrels, raccoon and coyote come later - say around 7 a.m. Matrix has a 4:45 wakeup call with his bowels so I get to see the animals a little more than maybe I wanted to.

I'll be leaving this place soon and moving a tiny bit closer to the real town, but I will have the actual trails to venture on when I do, I'll remember to hike back every once in a while and check up on Boss. He's probably going to outlive the next owners anyway.

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