Night of the Possum....
Posted by: amazinggraze <amazinggraze@...>
It was a dark and stormy night in the Pacific Northwest, about three
months ago...
Well, it wasn't that stormy, but it was drizzling. I was awakened out
of a sound sleep at about 2:00 AM. My dog was baking. I thought, I'd
better get up and see. Looking out the windows toward the barn, I could
see nothing. But I noticed that the motion light had come on. And the
dog was still having a fit. Something was definitely out there. But
what?
At this point, I was thinking that I would really rather return to my
repose. After all, it was raining, everything was closed up for the
night and all the animals safe. Or were they?
A doubt began to gnaw at my mind: Did I close the chicken coop door? I
couldn't remember closing the chicken coop door. But I *always* close
the chicken coop door. Maybe I forgot. How could I forget the chicken
coop door? If the chicken coop door was still open... I shuttered at
the thought. I realized that I had but one choice. I must face the
dark and the rain and whatever it was that lurked the shadows of the
barn. I must check the chicken coop door!
I dressed quickly and fastened the dog on her leash -- I may need her
help. She is a good dog, trusted and loyal, though rather small and
wiry. I and the dog left the comfort and security of the porch and
stepped into the cold, dark drizzle. It was night. The rain was
falling straight down; there was no wind. I noticed the droplets
glistening in the glow of a window from the house. My thoughts turned
to my sleeping children, snug in their beds, breathing those slow, deep
breaths of innocence. Ah, the sublimity of a child asleep. Would I
ever hold them in my arms again?
I was jerked suddenly out of my reverie by the dog straining at her
collar. "Yes, my eager friend", I said in a whisper, "we must be about
our duty." With a last lingering look toward my home, and the lattice
of the bedrooms of the little ones that I so love, I steeled myself and
headed for the barnyard.
It did not take long to realize that something was grossly amiss. The
two ducks were waddling around quacking nervously. It hit my like a
stone: If the ducks were not in the duck house, then the door of the
chicken coop had not been shut either! I had indeed forgotten. What
tragedy had my unwarranted forgetfulness wrought upon this once happy
flock?
Alas, I had no time to ponder this question. The squawking and mad
clucking coming from the chicken coop was clearly a mean omen. I rushed
to the side of the coop with the full-size door and threw back the
latch. As the door swung open, time halted. Paralyzed, I stoop rooted
to the spot staring into the face of a large
...man, look at the time. I've got to get some work done today. I'll
continue this story tomorrow.
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