The Tale Of The Bloody Hoe.

On one of my earlier blogs I mentioned a story (that I promised tell in the future) about an experience me and my human had with possums in our back yard a little over a year ago.

It happened before we moved here. It was a typically hot night as I went outside to pee and give the yard a quick once over before going back inside to the air conditioning. I just finished when I looked up and saw something running along the top of the fence. It was a baby possum. I wanted to kill him SO bad.

I began barking wildly, then quickly ran inside to get the alpha male (my human).

Now, my human and I are close, but I haven't yet figured out how to communicate with him. I tried looking excited and running back and forth toward the door, hoping I'd get the message across in some Lassie-esque way. You know how they did it on the show... "What boy? Timmy's caught in the well?"

Eventually he figured it out and followed me outside.

Upon seeing the baby possum, he went back into the garage and brought out a BB gun in the hopes of convincing it to leave. He pointed the gun and fired. A small drop of blood appeared coming out of the possum's head, but he didn't move a millimeter.

Another shot. Nothing.

Finally, my human went to get a hoe. He tried poking the possum to make it leave but poking did nothing. Eventually, he pushed hard and the possum went over the fence, presumably to the driveway and off to safety.

I sensed that something was still awry. My all-American mutt-dog senses were on high alert... and I immediately looked further down the fence. In the darkness was another, larger possum.

I barked wildly. "Get down, you pussy! This is my yard and I'm gonna kick your ass!"

The alpha male took the hoe over to that possum. It was HUGE. I think it was the size of a pony, but we dogs, admittedly, aren't the most educated when it comes to making such estimates.

Anyway the alpha male prodded the possum, trying to get him to leave. The possum turned toward the yard, looking down at my human as if to indicate that he was going to jump. I had a good feeling that, soon, I'd have him by the throat.

The alpha male, once again, struck him with the hoe. This time, blood went everywhere. My human clearly did NOT want the possum in the yard. But the more he struck the possum, the closer it seemed to get.

Whack. A huge gash.

Whack. A bloody face.

Whack. It was beginning to look like Reservoir Dogs.

Whack. Holy shit! Let me at him!

Finally, the fence was covered in blood. My human took the hoe and swiftly jabbed it at the possum, using the broad side of the hoe blade to knock the creature off. The possum, covered in blood, went flying. You could hear that huge beast hit one of the cars, even.

I couldn't wait till the next day. With the sun now up and showing all the bloody evidence from the night before, my human went out to the driveway to see if the possums had, in fact, ran away.

The baby was just laying there, dead as a doornail.

But the big one? The one my human hacked up into a piece of shredded wheat? He was gone. I don't know how, but, apparently, he lived.

I'll tell you one thing. If that goddamn possum had come down into my yard where I could get at him, it would have been a whole other story.