Playing Possum?

The other night I was sleeping peacefully, as usual, when I was disturbed by a ruckus outside. It was Molly, going crazy barking at something. I couldn't make out everything she was saying, but the gist was along the lines of "Who are you?! What do you want here?!" Only more incoherent.

My male human was outside with her and he came in to get a flashlight. My female human asked what was going on and he said Molly had something cornered. A few minutes later he came back in for the camera. (I enjoy that they do this for me, though I wish I could operate it; their pictures often leave much to be desired.) He said it was a possum. My female human remarked that it was three o'clock in the morning (the significance of that remark escaped me, but she didn't seem happy about it) but she got up.

Here is the sight that greeted us, and I ask you, is this something to be awakened for? I thought I was having a nightmare.


Molly ran at it (it was holed up inside a cinderblock affair) and the humans yelled, "Molly, no!" so she backed off. That was enough for me. I waited on the steps until they were finished staring at it. I'm not sure what the fascination was; I personally do not find it edifying in the least to ogle God's mistakes. Especially when they come with sharp teeth.

If this is what they mean when they say "playing possum," I admit that I don't really see the playfulness. But who knows what humans mean when they say anything?

I just wanted to go back to bed and forget that such creatures even exist. Thankfully, we haven't seen it since. I guess Molly's good for something, after all.