When a possum and a Star collide

Star recently started "ghost hunting" in the middle of the night. The last time she hunted ghosts, our house had been invaded by a Texas mouse, and Star was reacting to the tiny mouse noises as it scurried around in places unseen. Now she was back at it: staring into the dark rooms of our back addition, frozen in place, eyes as big and round as dinner plates.

The "ghost" may have returned, but I didn't see any signs of a mouse or other critter inside the house, so we weren't sure what to make of Star's behavior. She was hearing something--but what, and from where?

Do you hear that?? Shh!!

Star literally tripped over the answer last night when I let the dogs out to do their bedtime business. The young possum was in the wrong place at the wrong time--drinking out of the dogs' water bowl on the back porch--when the back door opened and two huge dogs came barreling out.

Star basically ran over the poor thing, but she didn't really notice it until it squealed. When it did, it became "Awesome New Squeaky Toy (TM)," and Star scooped it up into her mouth. In the next instant, it dawned on everyone (myself included) that this was NOT a toy. Poor Star... Her whole face wrinkled up as if she was about to vomit, her jaws went totally limp, her tongue rolled out, and she dropped the furry little ball onto the ground. Then she looked up at me with the same outraged look she gives when she uncovers a pill hidden inside a ball of peanut butter: "How DARE you! This thing isn't fun--it's DISGUSTING. Good DAY, madam, GOOD DAY!" For emphasis, she ran off into the yard to make an undignified wretching sound in Dozer's face.

Thus was I left alone on the porch with what appeared at first glance to be a large dead rat. But it was not a rat; it was a rat-sized possum, playing dead with all its might. After the dogs went back inside, I sat and waited for it to come back to life.

Young possums, by the way, are cute as hell.

Though quite drooled upon, this young possum didn't seem the worse for its time spent in a dog's jaws. Unfortunately, when it started to walk around, it was dragging its back foot. There weren't any significant puncture wounds from teeth, so I think the foot probably got broken when the possum was run over by an oblivious 60 lb dog. (That would also explain why it squealed as it was trampled--it should have quietly rolled up.)

I don't know a lot about possums, but I do know that their tail and back legs are very important for mobility. This possum's leg needed medical attention, so in the morning, I took the poor little guy down to Wildlife Rescue. These guys do a great job with local injured wildlife. I donate to them every time I bring them an animal.

But here is what I ascertained after watching the possum hobble around on our porch: The young critter had found a small hole under the back addition and was apparently living under the house. This evening, I'll check under the house to make sure there aren't any other possums, and then I'll close up the hole.

In theory, this will put a stop to Star's ghost-hunting, too.

I hear something!

The Prairie Dogs

Now, before I say anything about the prairie dogs, I want to emphasize that prairie dogs are wild animals and really do belong in the wild, in a prairie dog town, doing happy prairie dog things.

This is a realization that I had after having my own "pet" prairie dogs. But when I got my first prairie dog, I was just starting college, working at an exotic pet store at the time, and had yet to really grasp the differences between domesticated animals and wild animals (and working at the pet store didn't help at all).


So, for many years, I had prairie dogs: Penny, Humphrey, and Prince. I even spent the money to get them all neutered (Humphrey showing off his shaved belly and his stitches, below).


We were remodeling the house at the time, so I turned one of the hallways into a prairie dog park of sorts.


Prairie dogs mostly eat, sleep, make a lot of noise, and CHEW. Penny really did destroy my homework one time. It was a Japanese class worksheet. My professor (who was Japanese) was very confused when I apologized for the half-eaten assignment by saying "The prairie dog ate it."
Even though the prairie dogs were basically oversized rodents, they loved attention from the dogs, and vice versa. My dog Fel (on the left) and our roommate's dog Taz (on the right) liked to clean them up as if they were little puppies.

All clean...

Little clawed foot in the eye -- ouchie.

Please don't chew on my tail!

I don't recommend prairie dogs as pets, even though I have fond memories of them. They are wild animals, and therefore about as messy, disobedient, and obnoxious as any wild rodent might be when stuck in a house. People who buy prairie dogs as pets usually end up getting rid of them fairly quickly when they find out how much work these little guys require (and how much mess they make!).