EVENING TIME WITH A SOUTHERN DRAWL
by Opus, our Night Life Columnist
Night Light
I suppose you’re wonderin’ what I could possibly have to say that would be of any interest to people normally accustomed to chatting about their high bred cats or their low bred dogs or what have you. Consider me the voice of reason. No passion for chew toys, no excessive slobber for treats. No senseless jumping up and down just because you managed to find your way home again after a few minutes absence. No total loss of class or decorum when catnip is anywhere in the vicinity nor any desire to shred your drapes or drop upon you while you’re unsuspecting from a high shelf or the refrigerator. Never once have I coughed up something you would consider “unattractive” on your pillow. Nope. Just reason with a touch of common sense, mixed with the cool head of country and a bit of southern sanity (though I am sure there are those of you who would consider the latter an oxymoron – your opinion of course). For now I’ll ignore the comments regarding me as a “giant rat” or “future roadkill”. This from members of an “advanced species”? Please. Losin’ your fur and having to work your whole life in something referred to as a “rat race” to stay warm because of it, doesn’t seem to put you ahead on the “advanced” curve to me. OK, so I won’t call you “hairless apes” if you refrain from the “giant rat” comments. I’m a marsupial and a rat should be so lucky. And by the way, I have never known any self-respecting rat to get himself involved in a “race” of any kind so you might want to reconsider your terminology on that one as well. If you want an honest opinion, just ask. I might take a minute or two to consider all angles, but when I do get around to an answer it’ll be straightforward – unless of course that sweet smell of grubs under a nearby log happens to distract me.
*Yawn* What the heck? Oh, it’s her again. Makin’ those “kiss-kiss” sounds she loves so. And from a couple of tail lengths away right in my face! Does she really think when two opossums are strollin’ around in the wild we talk to each other that way? Still, I reckon she feels better about talkin’ to an opossum if she fusses a bit. You know you would think it was unexpected to find me here, that I wouldn’t have made the most of the convenient cat door the humans installed in the basement door, (supposedly for the cats of course). Then they put down cat food! Not such a bad life and as long as she’s smitten with me and thinks I’m cute I might just as well sit back and let her. No harm done. Still, I’d suggest eattin’ some compost to freshen her breath if I thought she’d listen. I figure’d openin’ my mouth and showin’ off my awesome teeth would impress her and back her off, but no she just said “oh, yes, yes, I know you. You’re big and tough and I’m impressed.” Hmmm…call me suspicious but I don’t think she meant it. Might be because after mom was hit by a car, and my siblings and I were found, this crazy lady helped raised me. Read the rest of Opus’ column on our blog!
Back then I wasn’t my resplendent 7lbs and I could fit in her hand with plenty of room left over. When I was old enough and ornery enough she let me loose here in the woods near her. This sure is a crazy place. Still, good compost bin, and it’s cozy enough here in the winter nestled amongst the boxes marked “holidays”. Speakin’ of festivities, that reminds me of my duties. As soon as she fills up the cat food dish and heads upstairs I had better top off the tank and get out on patrol. I feel it’s my honor to pay her back for her kindness by diggin’ appreciatively and enthusiastically in the day’s new discards in the compost bin and then liberatin’ the house trash from the confines of that stretchy plastic stuff that seems to grow around it. She seems to be afraid of that stuff since she puts it out in the garage and sometimes even in a tightened, metal can with a special, clamped lid. I have no fear of the stuff and even find a tasty scrap or two for my efforts to “wrassle” it loose. I am sure she appreciates how much effort I put into figurin’ out the lid and climbin’ in to do a proper job. Sometimes I even have to stoop to enlisting the help of one of the local masked night marauders. With all things considered I’m proud to say I don’t quit until my job has been done to the very best of my abilities. I’m back in bed by the time she figures out how dedicated to her I am and starts smilin’ at just how thoughtful I have been. Still, I am not one to ask for recognition or bask in the glow of the spotlight (reminds me too much of on-comin’ headlights actually. *shudder*) of her gratitude. Nope. I am a simple mammal with simple needs. Still, a chicken bone would be a nice bonus….
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