Saturday, December 15, 2007

my pet opossum, Dixon.

I came home from Christmas Shopping on Thursday night to hear a small rustling of leaves on the patio. I looked over, expecting a cat, but instead, found an opossum.

Poor little fella got scared, and tried to run/waddle away, but got somewhat trapped in the patio's courtyard.

Knowing my love of early `90s alt-pop, I promptly named the possum, Dixon. Sorry to my lovely and talented friend Diana Dixon, but this Dixon has nothing to do with you. For instance, you're a blonde, and Dixon is obviously a very mottled grey.

Last night, while walking the dogs, I spotted Dixon hanging around a neighbor's place. Kramer, the Big Dumb Dog, lurched out of my grip to investigate the critter, but fortunately, Dixon spared Kramer the wrath of his claws, teeth and wee beady eyes.

I have seen opossums before, but Dixon seems almost...friendly? Maybe because he lives in the woods by my complex, he's used to humans and enjoys our stash of food.

Maybe he's watched Over the Hedge? Or, perhaps read my glowing review of the movie?

No comments: