Boris has finally killed the possum whose very existence has been tormenting these last many months. Last night he wouldn't come in from the back yard so I went out with the flashlight. As had become common he was mouthing the limp possum and as has become equally commonplace eventually I corralled the dog and led him inside, sans possum. As had not previously been common, the next time I let him out the possum was still there for the taking, on the same spot on the lawn. Evidently it had not been playing dead as before, but had succumbed I suppose to one of Boris' violent shakes. This time Boris daintily carried the thing around the yard and then tried to bring it up the back stairs into the house. I presume he wanted to keep it for later chewing and shaking.

No dice; I got Boris inside and then began the delicate task of dead animal removal. With the dog pooper scooper I got the floppy scaly-tailed thing off the steps and then carried it around the house to the carport. Where it now lies, without the benefit of clergy but so far unmmolested. This morning I checked and the body was still there so I covered it with a garbage can. According to Multnomah County Animal Control I now need to place the dead animal down by the curb; they won't come up onto private property. Then within 72 hours they will pick up the critter. So that's my evening planned for me.

I hope Boris feels proud of himself. I think it was a female, and her obstinacy in hanging around the yard despite months of dog harassment presupposes a nesting arrangement. I hope the wee orphans can forgive the narsty killah dog.