He did it again - Jethro woke me up at the stroke of 1:00 to go out. After about fifteen minutes I went to the door to bring him back in. He was in the southeast corner of the yard, running around and whimpering. Since he wouldn't come to the door, I got the flashlight and went (in my nightie) to see what was wrong. I found him in emotional distress, leaning over the inert form of a possum. Jethro was obviously puzzled and worried, afraid that he'd killed the creature, trying to wake him up.
Having grown up familiar with the ways of possums, I wasn't too worried. I got Jethro inside, and got a bigger flashlight, a pair of your heavy gardening gloves, and a large plastic bag, just in case. I went back out and, of course, there was no trace of said possum. Jethro scared him and he was possuming.
The dog is happy and relieved, I'm glad not to have had a carcass to dispose of, the possum has returned safely to the bosom of his family, and the neighborhood is wondering what on earth is up in my yard that has me running around at 1 A.M. in my nightie with a flashlight, but they're sure Jethro is at the bottom of it.
Please tell Mama all about it. And tell her thanks loads for bringing me up to know about these things. It's her doing that I'm competent to handle a possum event at 1:30 A.M. And tell her yes, I know that I could have caught it, fed it milk and bread for a couple of weeks to be sure it wasn't sick and to get the gamey taste out of it, and could have eaten it. And I know how good it would have been. But I have enough to do around here to mediate between the critters, and I'd much rather send him home to his loved ones.
Love you, and all the crowd that will be entertained by this story,