So it’s been more than a month since I posted on the old blog. I apologize to my five loyal fans (you know who you are!) who have been upset by my lack of consistency. Sometimes we’re busy having special times with family, other times we’re mired in a swamp of problems and every once in a while we let ourselves believe lies that knock us off track. All of these have been part of my last month.
Yesterday at our house here in suburban DFW we had our own version of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. A half-grown possum decided he wanted to stroll around our backyard, wander in and out of the doghouse and check out my garden. The ever-energetic Elektra barked and jumped at the window and wanted to go out to defend her territory from the invader, but daughter Rebekah and I didn’t want the two critters to engage.
This is not our Junior Possum, just one that looks like him. I didn’t take any photos because sometimes you’ve just got to stay in the moment.
Elektra loves to chase squirrels but has caught nary a one. This young possum would be an easy catch. We were concerned about it spreading disease, but an even bigger reason: it was really cute with its cotton candy pink nose. We didn’t want to see that kind of Wild Kingdom unfold in our backyard.
We waited for several minutes that seemed even longer, what with the wild rumpus going on in my breakfast nook at the big window overlooking the yard. The little critter finally made his way toward the hole in the fence, and I went out to check the area before we allowed Elektra to go out and do her olfactory forensic investigation.
After I went back inside and the curious canine sniffed around a bit, she alerted on something under the rosebush right by the hole in the fence. Rebekah knew we were in trouble. Sure enough, the dog turned around with the prize possum loosely held in her jaws. When she catches something, her first goal is play not kill. We pulled open the door and gave a sharp yell, causing the dog to drop her friend.
Kudos to Elektra for coming back in the house when we called, and we didn’t have to wrestle it away from her. Rebekah and I went out to check on it. The possum laid on its side, little pink claws in the air, motionless. You know, playing possum. But there was no blood or teeth marks, the little chest was moving up and down, so we went back inside to watch.
After a minute or two it began to move, getting back on its feet and walking back into the garden. Then it just stopped and looked around.
Meanwhile, the dog is once again going bonkers. Since the possum was in no hurry to go anywhere, Rebekah and I decided to encourage it to leave. I put Elektra on a leash and the three of us went out to let it know it wasn’t welcome. I kept the dog out of range. She seemed to know that the leash meant she couldn’t go play with it.
The little possum just crouched next to my faded zinnias pretending we weren’t there. Rebekah went and got a stick to herd it towards the gap under the fence. When she gently tapped it, the creature did a slow-mo fall to its side, claws up. We were all on one side of it and freedom was on the other and Junior Possum’s response was to pretend rigor mortis had set in. You don’t want any of this folks, I’m long dead.
“Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” was Must See TV for kids in the 1970s!
We decided to conduct our own wildlife relocation program. Rebekah got the shovel and I got the broom. While I held the dog away from the action and played “Marlin Perkins” giving out words of encouragement, Rebekah was the brave “Jim” gently sweeping the animal onto the shovel. She then walked outside of our fence to a cluster of mesquite trees next to the pond behind our house and carefully slid him into a shady spot in the grass. He never moved, except for the telltale rhythm of his tiny chest. Then we shut the gate, loosed the hound and let her gather more olfactory evidence.
I told Rebekah I thought “playing dead” had to be one of the lamest self-defense measures ever. Later I was reminded that sometimes we may pretend to be dead to bad habits or the hurtful words of others or our own negative self-talk, but we didn’t really remove ourselves from the situation. The dangerous destruction is right there, and our response is to pretend it can’t hurt us. A better defense mechanism is to get away and/or have a much stronger protector.
Sometimes God calls us to leave a dangerous habit or situation behind. Other times, he may want us to look to him for protection and help when we must stand our ground. In either case, we’re not alone.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” – Isaiah 41:10
Elektra doesn’t want to play possum. She wants to play WITH possum. Behind her are the trees where we relocated her “friend.”