Volpone
Zombie Hunter
[DISCLAIMER: If you think Nature is warm and fuzzy like "Bambi" or something, you should probably stop reading now. Nature is cruel and sucks and things die horribly.]
Walking The Dog this morning. She's half lab, half border collie, so she needs lots of walks--and needs to work off-leash as much as possible. 2 blocks from home and she takes off in hot pursuit of a squirrel, disappearing around a building, next to a road. I know I should run (or at least jog) until I've got her in sight again, but I'm tired. And my feet are wet. I finally get her back in sight and she's next to the road with something bigger and whiter than a squirrel. And much more stationary. [Please don't let it be someone's cat, please don't let it be someone's cat...] I get closer and see that it is an oppossum. I can't quite tell if it is "playing possum" and/or if The Dog has brought him to bay. The Dog is actually being surprisingly tender with said 'possum, who is still feebly resisting. Ordinarily, she'd give him Crunchy Mouth Hugs until his ribcage was crushed and his internal organs were destroyed, but instead she's just kind of probing him. I'm not sure if this is because she's getting older or that the neighbors have a new outdoor kitten and I've forbade her murdering it--and said kitten actually seems interested in being friends with her, unlike her bastard stepsister cat, who growls and hisses at her whenever she tries to be friends.
Anyway, I'm rambling. Eventually I get up there and Mr. 'Possum isn't in good shape. He's making feeble gestures to fend off The Dog, his breathing is labored, he can't get up, and the inside of his mouth is full of clotted blood. Still, I'm holding out some hope that he'll pull through and call off The Dog. But I realize there's an assortment of blood streaks on the road in his vicinity and when I have a closer look at him I realize he's presenting his "good side." The side on the road is a lot bloodier. And while his right eye is clear and glossy, his left eye is...I really can't tell. Is that his brain that is poking out the socket? He's almost certainly a goner.
At some point I decided turning The Dog loose on him was more humane than letting him die slowly. Crunchy Mouth Hugs probably aren't painless, but they're quick and massive and cause a fairly humane death. But I hesitated and The Dog doesn't know what to do (By the way, I found out opossums eat like, a ton of ticks. And I really hate ticks, so I've been trying to keep The Dog from murdering them whenever possible.
So it comes down to this. Mr. 'Possum is almost certainly a goner. His minutes are probably numbered and he could go at any moment. Even if wildlife had health insurance, there isn't much veterinary medicine can do for him at this point. So do you do the horrible thing and stomp on him? Find a big brick to smash his head in? Or do you just go about your day? He could literally die at any second.
Aaand...go.
Walking The Dog this morning. She's half lab, half border collie, so she needs lots of walks--and needs to work off-leash as much as possible. 2 blocks from home and she takes off in hot pursuit of a squirrel, disappearing around a building, next to a road. I know I should run (or at least jog) until I've got her in sight again, but I'm tired. And my feet are wet. I finally get her back in sight and she's next to the road with something bigger and whiter than a squirrel. And much more stationary. [Please don't let it be someone's cat, please don't let it be someone's cat...] I get closer and see that it is an oppossum. I can't quite tell if it is "playing possum" and/or if The Dog has brought him to bay. The Dog is actually being surprisingly tender with said 'possum, who is still feebly resisting. Ordinarily, she'd give him Crunchy Mouth Hugs until his ribcage was crushed and his internal organs were destroyed, but instead she's just kind of probing him. I'm not sure if this is because she's getting older or that the neighbors have a new outdoor kitten and I've forbade her murdering it--and said kitten actually seems interested in being friends with her, unlike her bastard stepsister cat, who growls and hisses at her whenever she tries to be friends.
Anyway, I'm rambling. Eventually I get up there and Mr. 'Possum isn't in good shape. He's making feeble gestures to fend off The Dog, his breathing is labored, he can't get up, and the inside of his mouth is full of clotted blood. Still, I'm holding out some hope that he'll pull through and call off The Dog. But I realize there's an assortment of blood streaks on the road in his vicinity and when I have a closer look at him I realize he's presenting his "good side." The side on the road is a lot bloodier. And while his right eye is clear and glossy, his left eye is...I really can't tell. Is that his brain that is poking out the socket? He's almost certainly a goner.
At some point I decided turning The Dog loose on him was more humane than letting him die slowly. Crunchy Mouth Hugs probably aren't painless, but they're quick and massive and cause a fairly humane death. But I hesitated and The Dog doesn't know what to do (By the way, I found out opossums eat like, a ton of ticks. And I really hate ticks, so I've been trying to keep The Dog from murdering them whenever possible.
So it comes down to this. Mr. 'Possum is almost certainly a goner. His minutes are probably numbered and he could go at any moment. Even if wildlife had health insurance, there isn't much veterinary medicine can do for him at this point. So do you do the horrible thing and stomp on him? Find a big brick to smash his head in? Or do you just go about your day? He could literally die at any second.
Aaand...go.
