An Epic Tail

One morning back in December, during a circuit through Shadybrook Park, west on North Street and back home across the footbridge, we were both inclined to avoid the twitching near-dead opossum about ten feet off the path approaching the footbridge on the far side of the ravine. We cross that bridge fairly often, so the ensuing months saw the carcass covered with snow, uncovered by thaws and rains and covered again many times. Each round saw more and more decay, and it was harder and harder to keep Grace from inspecting the remains. Eventually, it disappeared, having been dispersed by various forces. I forgot about it.

A couple of months ago, we were walking the same circuit. On this end of the bridge Grace suddenly pulled off into the weeds and pulled out a stick. This was usual behavior, but the stick was not a usual stick. It was curved, and tapered on one end. I tried to look at it, but this sparked a game of keep-away, and I was trying to speed us home, so the efficient thing to do was to let her trot proudly home with it. When she tried to bring it in the house, however, game over. I pried her jaws open and retrieved a well-seasoned opossum tail. I flung it into the back yard, and we got on with our day. I looked for it later, but did not find it. I forgot about it.

Then came yesterday, Sunday afternoon. Carmen was walking Grace through the back yard. Grace pulled off into the bushes and pulled out a strange curved stick that tapered on one end. Carmen pried Grace's jaws open and grabbed the"stick "What the hell is this?" she asked. "Oh," I said, "It's a tail from a 'possom that died last December." Of course. Duh.
It now resides in the landfill, at least until the next time it rears its ugly head - or tail.