By Gwen Rockwood, newspaper columnist and Northwest Arkansas mom of 3
If you’re a regular reader, you know that our dog Charlie has been in a years-long feud with a possum that often sits on top of our back fence. Charlie is our elderly Beagle mix who grows a new lump, bump or raised mole every month or two, as if he’s decorating his 14-year-old body with interesting new doodads. Even though Charlie is old and somewhat cosmetically challenged, he has the nose of a much younger, sleeker Beagle. That’s how he always knows when the possum is back on the fence.
Typically, Charlie charges out the doggie door and races over to the wooden fence where he barks up at the possum, who is the size of a cat but looks more like a giant rat. When the barking goes on too long, one of us goes out and scoops up our geriatric Beagle and brings him inside for a treat and a nap.
But this time was different. And I wish I could tell you exactly how it started, but we weren’t home for the first half of what we’re calling “the incident.” But don’t worry. I’ve reconstructed the story based on evidence found at the crime scene.
The second half of the incident began when I arrived home after having had dinner out with Tom and my 81-year-old mother, also known as Memaw. We pulled into the garage and went our separate ways — Tom and I into our house and Memaw into her apartment attached to the garage. We hadn’t even kicked off our shoes before we heard the scream.
We bolted back into the garage where we saw Memaw traveling toward us at an impressive rate of speed. She was yelling and pointing back toward her house, where Charlie and Freckles (Memaw’s dog) were both barking.
Tom: “What’s going on?”
Memaw: “POSSUM!”
Tom: “In the backyard?”
Memaw: “NO! IN THE KITCHEN!”
We ran over and found Charlie barking and baring his teeth at the hissing, snarling possum he’d cornered in the kitchen. How did a possum get into a kitchen when no one but the dogs were home? Good question.
Here’s my hypothesis: While the three of us were out dipping chips into guacamole, the possum launched a surprise attack. With the humans out of sight, he decided to bring the fight directly to the Beagle’s favorite napping spot, which is in Memaw’s living room — accessible only by doggie door. When the sun went down, the possum silently crept inside the same way he’d watched the dogs do it countless times before. Charlie might have looked like he was curled up and snoozing when the possum breached the perimeter, but a Beagle’s nose never sleeps.
As soon as that scaly-tailed assailant set foot inside, Charlie must have sprang up and rocketed toward him, with Freckles close behind. That’s when we believe a scuffle of epic proportions took place because we found bits of mud, hair, and saliva in a trail from the doggie door all the way to the kitchen where we found the final standoff in progress. I’m still not sure why the possum wasn’t playing dead, as they’re known to do, but I’m guessing he knew the Beagle wouldn’t buy it.
With a broom in hand, Tom stepped between Charlie and the possum, attempting to herd the intruder out the nearest door. After repeated nudges and pokes from the broom, the possum waddled outside, cussing a blue streak as he retreated into the night.
Afterward, it took a while to get ourselves and the dogs settled down. We cleaned up the mess, sprayed Lysol everywhere, and gave Charlie a bone for his bravery. Memaw locked the doggie door and has decided that, from now on, it will be closed at sunset to prevent wildlife from sneaking into her house during Wheel of Fortune.
As for Charlie, I’d say he won this battle in the ongoing war. Despite his advanced age, he stood his ground and turned the possum into a prisoner until help arrived. They say old dogs can’t learn new tricks, but perhaps they don’t need to when they’re this good at the tricks that work best.
Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.
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