Thursday, January 24, 2013
The Poop Trail
They are big poops.
They are also why Mean Old Man is mad at Hobbes--he thinks Hobbes is the culprit of leaving poops on his property, even though Hobbes hasn't really stepped more than 5 feet out into the door this winter. Poop = neighbor's cat, or so he thinks. Sigh. Oh well, it gives him something to be mad about all winter.
I'm not sure why my garden has been bestowed, but apparently the opossum like to come visit our yard every night. And my thanks? Poop. Lots of little logs of poop. On my plants. In the garden. Sometimes just left in the middle of the yard, like a dog. We have a major clean-up coming in spring.
This trail has been here for years--long before we moved in, I'm guessing. There are byways and passways under the fence here and there--places where the opossum go from one yard to the next. They had been here with the old fence when we first moved to Weirdville, and they continue under the new fence--in the exact same places. Seriously, I think generations of opossum have left their scent on this here opossum haven, and it will probably continue long after we have left.
This is my lot in life. I don't inherit a cottage by a lake or millions of dollars. Nope. I inherit the Poop Trail.
Who wants to be me?