Rumble at 3am

The possum is back.

I woke to sounds of scavenging, the dogs barking, and then yelling. It was just after three on a bright, moonlit night. My next door neighbor was precariously tangled up in the tree that begins on his property and ends on mine, his feet searching for the safety of the fence and a pistol in one hand. The possum was on the roof of the shed, neutrally observing and munching on the remains of a chili cheese dog. As the dogs hit the ground running I wondered first if the batteries in my camera were charged, second, what the penalty might be for disturbing the peace and third, if logic would be effective against this treebound lunatic who lives next door. Travis, I said reasonably, You're gonna shoot your own damn foot off. He looked at me wild eyed and frantic, Gon' blow that sonovabitch to kingdom come! he yelled and promptly fell out of the tree.

I was reminded of Alice and the White Knight in "Through the Looking Glass".

He was dressed in tin armour, which seemed to fit him very badly, and he had a queer-shaped little deal box fastened across his shoulders, upside-down, and with the lid hanging open. Alice looked at it with great curiosity.

`I see you're admiring my little box,' the Knight said in a friendly tone. `It's my own invention -- to keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see I carry it upside-down, so that the rain ca'n't get in.'

`But the things can get out,' Alice gently remarked. `Do you know the lid's open?'

The possum, having finished his late night snack, turned tail and nonchalantly trekked out of sight. The dogs gave up the chase and Travis regained the fence but too late. He looked at me accusingly and spoke clearly. You're on his side. I shrugged and told him good night. I have no doubt that he and the possum will live to fight another day.