In my garden — cute? Not really.

At first light this morning as I sat reading the paper, I was startled by Emmie’s fearsome barking. All I could see were some crows pecking at the neighbor’s roof, and while she hates the resident murder of crows (yes, that’s really what a group of crows is called), Emmie usually doesn’t get that worked up about a few crows.

Still her hysterical barking persisted. I was tempted to open the door and let her have at it, but something stopped me. Good thing as the cause finally revealed itself.

Awww! Kind of cute, right? Not really.

I don’t know if it was a she or a he — let’s call it Mama Possum for the heck of it. Mama P was completely unfazed by Emmie’s threats from behind the glass. She sat on the fence for a while watching us and gently rocking from side to side. Then she slowly turned around to make her way back to wherever she came from. That’s when I saw her fangs and said a silent thank you for the second thought that stopped me from opening the door. I don’t think it would have gone well if Emmie and Mama Possum had gotten into a tussle.

All I really need to worry about is where the touch-up paint is for the door. It didn’t fare so well in Emmie’s attempts to dig through it to reach Mama P.


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