My first memory of an opossum was when one was under our front porch when I was little. He was cornered up by the dogs all hissing and showing his teeth. My mom called her dad to come over and he walked straight to the porch and start going under with him.

My mom said, "Be careful daddy don't get bitten."

He said, "That thing won't do squat..."

Sure enough he came right back out with him. He was holding it by the tail and it was hanging there lifeless.

I said, "Grandaddy, did you kill him?"

He said, "Not yet".

About that time he reared back and swung him against my the pole my basket ball backboard was attached to. One swing and he cracked his head perfect. Then went and threw him over the fence.

The blood spatter stayed on the pole for weeks. God, I loved and miss that man.

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Posted by genro

Member since Nov 2011

61788 posts

Posted on 3/24/15 at 2:38 pm to Clyde Tipton

Damn, that's country right there.

We used to have them come on our porch and mess with the cats and eat their food. A golf club took care of them. That's how I know. It wasn't pretty, but what else could we do. I'm not just a psycho who goes around whacking possums.

This post was edited on 3/24/15 at 2:39 pm

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Posted by meeple

Carcassonne

Member since May 2011

9421 posts

Posted on 3/24/15 at 2:39 pm to Clyde Tipton

quote:
About that time he reared back and swung him against my the pole my basket ball backboard was attached to. One swing and he cracked his head perfect. Then went and threw him over the fence.

The blood spatter stayed on the pole for weeks.

Why not just toss it in the woods or something? Was that really necessary?

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