I put Maggie on a long lead today. The last time we walked to the gate, I carried it in my hand. Lot of good it did there, too, when Buck and I were beating the bushes for that essential old dog — running off like a two-year-old with the scent of squirrel causing her to become deaf, not to mention disobedient.
We were halfway to the gate this morning, just at the stream bed, when a young possum stepped up from the stream onto the gravel road, bold as you please. My camera dangled from my wrist while I hollered "Stay, Maggie, stay!" The possum had the nakedest face. It had large, round eyes, and just stood there at the edge of the road and stared at us like we were the rudest creatures it had ever seen – especially me, jumping all around and raising my voice on such a lovely morning. To me, it looked like something out of Hieronymous Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights.
The possum finally saw all it wanted to see, then calmly ambled across the road, stepped down into the stream on the other side and disappeared from view.
Maggie was curiously restrained. She may have met up with a possum full of teeth before.