Here in the South, opossums are referred to as “possums”. When I say “possum” here, I really mean “opossum”.
hehe
Anyway, my little 15-pound terrier Molly and I were in the basement the other day when all of a sudden – out of the corner of my eye – I see a gray blur and hear a snarl.
Then I look and there’s Molly with a young (maybe a couple months old) possum in her mouth. She’s shaking it back and forth, wildly. It sounds like “whap, whap, whap, whap, whap”.
Anyhow, the terror & exhiliration bring me to shout at her “Molly, NO!”.
She apparently has her wits about her enough to let go of the possum. The possum flies about a foot and skids to a stop on carpet. Molly looks up at me as if to say, “Look, I brought you a present. May I kill it now?”
Immediately the possum curls its fists into its middle and opens its mouth – it’s playing dead. Being a human and not so easily fooled, I notice that its nose is twitching.
I have basically just watched a cliche: the terrier got the possum (the thing, as small as it was, looked quite like a rat, and Molly surely didn’t know the difference), and the possum played dead.
I took Molly upstairs for a minute, then went back downstairs to see if the possum was back on its feet. It was.
So I let the possum back outside. I could see that somehow it had suffered a cut on its left shoulder, but it walked out of the house anyway. We’d managed to get Molly upstairs. She whined her head off.
I hope the little possum is okay.