Playing Possum? … This afternoon Gabby (the ferocious Yorkie hunter) began whining in a dog-sort-of-way to go outside. As usual, I ignored her. Then she became very insistent. After looking out the windows to be sure there was nothing for her to chase – like wild turkeys, deer, pheasants, raccoons, possums, the neighbors …I gave the “all clear” and opened the front door – to immediately see her dodge under the bench on the porch and pull out a (live) possum! Nate and Kirk would have found this to be very entertaining, but I was horrified and started yelling in my gruffest man-voice ..”No! Gabby – NO – Stop – Gabby – leave – No! – GET – NO- GO – NO – Stop” and after a few possum tosses in the air and a couple good shakes, Gabby walked away with possum fur hanging from her mouth and a very smug, proud look in her eye. I picked Gabby up – because I didn’t want her going back for more “fun” – and gingerly walked around the lifeless possum and into the house. With Gabby safe inside, I did what any normal- red blooded blogger would do — I grabbed my camera and headed outside to take a couple photos of Gabby’s heroic feat. It was ugly. Possums are ugly. I left the possum where it lay for Kirk to deal with later and locked Gabby in the house. —Fast forward 1 hour— Scene: Kirk walking in the door, me looking out the window to see the possum gone. “Hey Kirk, thanks for getting rid of the possum!” Kirk: “I didn’t do anything with it – didn’t see it”. Uh Oh. Did someone let Gabby out and she took it and buried it somewhere with her bone stash?
Or…

Was it merely a flesh wound?