The Pit Bull & The Possum

As a general rule, I believe that drama is by invitation only but not always. Sometimes the stars align and wreak havoc for the sake of havoc. In Michael's world, this happens more often than with normal folk but still, now and then there are times when he's actually an innocent bystander, caught up in a mess not of his own making. Take, for example, the case of the pit bull, the possum, the purse snatcher and the police.

When I got there, the purse snatcher was long gone and the police were, somewhat listlessly, interrogating the Mexican work crew replacing the roof. Since the police spoke no Spanish and the Mexicans spoke no English, it was unclear how much actual communication was taking place but everyone was trying. By the time I got to the front porch, more drama was erupting in the backyard - Michael was yelling unintelligibly and the dogs were sounding like the hounds of hell - the cops were unmoved but the Mexicans on the roof began scrambling over the tar paper to see what the commotion was while those on the ground ran anxiously around the side of the house. Ladders tumbled over, tar spilled, and roof debris flew in every direction. All I could think of was how every second was bringing us closer to a Keystone Kops movie.

The source of the new drama was revealed quickly. The old pit bull had discovered and caught an unwary possum and Michael – clad only in his usual morning attire of white Calvin Klein briefs and flipflops and reasonably enough thinking the poor, bedraggled thing was dead – was trying to argue the dog into letting it go while the dog, slow and dull witted but lovable, was prepared to defend his prize to the death. He stood his ground while the other three danced and howled around him like dervishes. Michael finally prevailed and was attempting to simultaneously fend off the dogs and scoop the possum up with a shovel when the poor thing came back to life with a shrill, hysterical squeal. Shovel, possum, Michael, all four dogs and several Mexicans were so startled they all froze, giving the possum a window of opportunity to stagger through the latticework and reach safety. Unobstructed, he made his way to the sanctuary of under the house. I like to think he waited for cover of darkness and escaped to the vacant lot across the street but whatever his fate, he hasn't been seen since.