Playing Possum

Sorry you missed the SJG Backyard Bark-A-Thon?  Don't be.  I'm here to fill you in on the commotion that took place yesterday morning.  It went something like this:  Dusty entered the dog run and barked, incessantly.  The SJD (Short Jewish Detective) went out to investigate.  "What are you barking at?" I asked.  He barked in response.  I got closer to the crime scene.  He was barking insanely at a cute little baby something, just lying there on the ground.  At first viewing, the cute little baby something looked like an ex-something.  And there was another cute little ex-baby something by the gate.  The SJD had an immediate flashback to a Horrible Childhood Trauma -- the time I found my beloved Stuart, a guy guinea pig that turned out to be a gal, knocked up by King Sol, named during a brief biblical phase, well, there's no nice way to say it... Stuart was dead.  She'd had just given birth to many cute little baby guinea piggies, and the labor proved too much.  At that moment, I screamed and went running back into the house.  Yesterday's discovery of two ex-baby somethings triggered the same flight response.  "@#$%!" I screamed, and took off.  Dusty stayed put, his ancestral retriever-type instincts so deeply suppressed, all he could do was keep barking at the ex-baby somethings. The message he was trying to impart:  "Hey, you!  Get up!  Move!  Beat it!  Scram!  Go, and never darken my towels again.  This is my dog run, not yours.  Get the eff out!  And take your brother with you!"

"Go, and never darken my towels again."

Meanwhile, I was already upstairs, sharing my trauma with hubby.  "Honey!  Dusty found two dead somethings in the dog run.  I don't know what they are, but they are definitely dead!"  "I'll handle it," he said, in his manliest voice.  "I've got a shovel."  Better hubby should shovel up the ex-somethings, than the SJG.  I'm not cut out for that sort of work.  So hubby went off to the dog run to investigate and came back with an exciting update.  Guess what?  The somethings weren't dead, they were just two prankster baby possums, playing... what else, dead.  Ha ha! The joke was on the SJG and Dusty.  Good one, possums.  Hardy-har-har.  So hubby transported them, via shovel, to a new location, where their mother later retrieved them.  See what I did there?  I gave you a happy ending.  You're welcome!