I killed a possum!

If you think opposums are cute little lovable critters, do not read this entry or scroll down to the pictures; but ever since possums wiped out my whole chicken population years ago, I’ve hated them with a passion.

If you’re reading this VIA Facebook, you are missing seeing pictures.

Sadie had already gone to her doggie bed in the bedroom last night when suddenly she started barking desperately, looking out the window nearest her bed.

I got a flashlight and let her out, following close behind; she went to the deck box in front of our garage and barked like crazy at the space between the deck box and garage. I shone my light into that space and, lo and behold, a possum.

We have big rocks lying in that (weedy) bed of gravel along the house, and I grabbed one and flung it on top of the possum. Then another. Pretty soon the possum was covered with big rocks with nothing but his ugly, growling head sticking out, and I came in and announced my triumph on Facebook. One has to share victories in whatever way is available.

My wise Georgia friend, who has likely had her own struggles with varmints, told me those rocks wouldn’t hold the possum. I called Cliff at work, and he said “get a hammer”. I pointed out that the hammers are way out in the shop, and I was running around in my nightgown with a flashlight.

“Then get a shovel and kill him with that.”

Since the shovels are in the garage near the house, I tried that… one-handed, of course, because I was holding the flashlight in the other hand. Again and again and again, with Sadie going absolutely crazy beside me, I struck at the vile creature. I hate killing anything, even a possum. But I don’t want them taking over my place, either. Who knows, I might want some chickens again sometime.

I saw blood, and the possum stopped growling at Sadie; he was still covered by fifteen-pound rocks.

I announced my triumph (again) on Facebook.

This morning when I went to remove the body, this is all I saw. No possum, only rocks.

I was fairly certain he went off and died someplace, but I sure did want to know for sure.

Then I went out to get rid of some trash and I saw this.

If this happens again, I hope I get a cleaner kill.

Celeste had suggested using a gun, but I don’t touch guns; I’m afraid I’d shoot my fool self, or blast holes in something valuable.

If you go to my wall on Facebook, you can see the whole possum conversation.