Possum 1



Ol’ ‘Possum, he was feeling sluggardly, old an’ cold, denser’n a spring-mornin’ dewfog.  His lazical ol’ bones jes’ a’creakin’ an’ a’rattlin’ as he hung hissef from his favorite ol’ hangy-branch an’ cogitated on his condition, “My ol’ fingers an’ toes done froze themsefs ‘round thissa here hangy-branch!  How’s a ‘Possum t’ gather hissef goodies ta mumble on with froze-up toes?”

Down below li’l Lily Linx spies Ol’ ‘Possum ruminatin’ ta his tasty, fat ol’ sef, an’ chances t’ hear him ponderin’ on his lacka provinders near ta hand.  She squinches up her eyes, curls her wiskers in her friendliest kitty grin, an’ calls up, “Ol’ ‘Possum, you’s a-lookin’ plain poorly t’day!  Yore nigh on t’ wastin’ plumb away!  Why, yore belly’s all suckied in on itsef!  Mightent you better be t’ fillin’ it?”

Ol’ ‘Possum gives a start, an’ wraps hissef around his hangy-branch, squinchin’ his eyes in th’ direction a Lily’s purry call, “Don’t sweet talk at me, Missy Linx!  If you cares for my condition, it’s only ‘cause I seems less of a morsel ta you’n usyal.  Yore toothy’n sharp all th’ way down t’ that prickly heart a’ yore’n!”

“Why, ‘Possum!  You truly do wound me!”  She calls up, “I was only bein’ neighborly in my concern…” she pauses, eyin’ his tree, “nothin’ more.”  Sidlin’ ta his tree trunk, she rubs her head agin it, “This here’s a good, sturdy ol’ tree, ain’t it, ‘Possum dear?”

“I likes it jes’ fine,” ‘Possum glowers, “An’ I’d like it a heap better ‘th’out you paddin’ ‘bout ‘neath it!  Why don’t you be ‘bout yore business, an’ leave me t’ mine?!” he growls, showin’ his needly teeth.

“Hhhmph!” she snuffles, at his rudeness.  “Alright, ‘Possum, guess I’ll jes’ be moseyin’ on then, if you insist on bein’ so unneighborly,” she rumbles as she turns ta go, with a jerk a her little bit of a tail accentin’ her irritation, “an’ then you’ll prob’ly never know what a tasty treasure I done found jes’ a ‘Possum-waddle from here as I’s cracklin’ through th’ frosty-mornin’ dew-ice,” she temptalates with a cock a her eye at him, as she halts in her saunter ta stretch out lazy an’ long, scratchin’ her claws in th’ packed earth ‘neath ‘Possum’s tree, ta end with a huge yawn a’glistenin’ th’ sun off’n her white, pointy teeth.

‘Possum, he was old for a reason!  “If there’s good eatin’ t’ be found, I’ll more’n likely come ‘crost it, missy… ‘n thanky much fer yore kindly concern.  Now, g’day t’ ye,” he nods curtly, arms ‘n legs fairly achin’ from his tight holt’a that there hangy-branch.

Growlin’ low Miss Lynx flattens her ears an’, in one motion, quicker’n a lightnin’ strike, propels hersef up ‘Possum’s tree, hissin’, “You crotchety ol’ coot!  I’ll dissattach you from yore unpleasant attitude!”

With a squeal’n a flip ‘Possum rights hissef on his branch an’, flashin’ hand-a’fore-hand foot-a’fore-foot, races dead flat-out ta its springy-end.  Then, givin’ a sproing, he launches hissef into th’ air in a oft repeated leap, arms an’ legs wide-spread, an’ wraps his grab ‘round th’ sturdy, well-worn branch a his home-tree jes’ inches ‘cross th’ way.

Lily screams out her rage as she bounces, grapplin’ for upright, on th’ previous point a ‘Possum’s repose, “I hate you, ‘Possum!  I truly do hate you!” she hisses, “You’re too fat an’ spry for yore age, an’ too old ta still be livin’!”

‘Possum gives a chortle as he scurries ta th’ protectin’ ease a his tree-crotch hidey-hole, “Bounce ‘round my backyard fer long’s ya wishes, missy… meanwhile, me fer a nap!”  With that he throws her a pleasureful grin as he peruses her predicament clingin’ there on that saggy, springy branch, then dives into th’ recesses of his homey-hole with a ‘flumph!’.

“I’LL GIT YOU ONE DAY, ‘POSSUM!” she screams, then growls in misery, squealing, “Owey-ouch!” as th’ branch she’s clingin’ ta whaps her one on th’ jaw when her left claw-hold breaks a’loose.  “I’ll git you… I’ll git you…” she hisses as she carefully backs up th’ branch ta its firmer part near th’ tree’s trunk, “You wuthless ol’ sack’a meanness!  I’ll git you!”

‘Possum pokes his head out, grinnin’ with all’a his teeth, “Yore mommy done triet, yore daddy done triet, all yore uncles’n aunties a’fore ye done triet, young missy, go git yore instruction f’om them ‘bout thissa here fat ol’ ‘Possum!  I gots no plans t’ be no one’s provinders!”

From th’ security a th’ trunk Lily calls ta ‘Possum, “What we plans an’ what we gits are more oft’ than not nowheres near each of another, ‘Possum!  I got time an’ you done got old since my Mommy ‘n Daddy, uncles ‘n aunties useta chase you here ‘bouts.  I kin learn from each’a them whilst you jes’ sit there rememb’rin’.  So ‘member well, ‘Possum… I’ll see you agin.”

As she bounds down th’ trunk an’ melts into th’ bushes near ta hand, ‘Possum marks how quiet her fresh, young paddy-paws carry her.  “Think it’s nigh onta time fer me t’ be a’findin’ mysef a new homey-hole,” he mutters, “She knows her mind, an’ it’s total contrarywise ta my better interests!  She jes’ might be th’ one, if I comfy-down with my past successes.  What was is all well’n good, but what is keeps me breathin’… or not…”

He shakes his head as he backs down his hole, then snugs down on his back an’ scratches at his fat belly, “My Pappy use’ta say, ‘There’s nothin’ quite as terrifyin’ ta us older folk as a young’un bent on destruction,’” he mumbles, driftin’ off ta sleep, “‘Cause more oft’ than not, they tends ta git they way.’”