I happened again.
They say lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place but clearly that cliché does not apply in the world of death-obsessed opossums.
This morning while watering the begonias, I again caught a whiff of what could only be decaying marsupial. Yes, an opossum is a marsupial. The only marsupial in North America.
I’ll spare you visuals. This one photo of the tail sticking out from between the fence boards should be enough explanation. The exact same spot from which I extracted a dead relative just a short while ago.
What’s going on? Is this the opossum equivalent of the Elephant Graveyard? Do opossums get together over a beetle lunch and make funeral plans to visit Tom’s fence?
I realize I run a charitable foundation focused on end-of-life issues, but does that mean I have to be surrounded by terminal backyard animals?
What a disgusting way to start one’s day. Breakfast is on hold. Maybe lunch, too.
But now I know why Reiko was scratching more and I’ll spend my Saturday doing intensive flea surveillance around Chez Roommates.
Speaking of the flea ball, I mean fur ball, her Vet visit yesterday was a failure. She was deemed too frightened to handle three injections without some form of tranquilization. So, we got booted and rescheduled for the end of the month and given a script for Dog Xanax.
Not batting 1000% lately, And so it goes.
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