We
received yet another early morning unexpected wake-up call yesterday. Our bodies are going to get used to Daylight
Savings Time whether we like it or not.
But this one … this one was special.
It
began a little before seven. And it was
a familiar sound. The faint, yet clearly discernible “yip, yip, yipping” that is unmistakably our beloved little Freddy,
informing us that she sees something out of the ordinary that we need to be
made aware of. But as I slowly came more
and more into focus with the world around me, there was just something
different. It wasn’t her usual
continual, non-stop yappery. It was intermittent,
as if she suspected something was awry, but wasn’t completely sure. As is our custom, I followed her outside to
the back yard, and she took me to the usual place where she sees outside
critters. I saw none.
And
then there came the two other sounds that got even Chris’ attention. One was the low-pitched growl, reminiscent of
that movie with the demons that came to eat the souls of the faithful. Neither of us could place that one. It certainly wasn’t Freddy. But the other one. Oh, my.
It was a deep-throated bark that sounded like a full-blown wolf
attack. And it sounded like it was just
outside our bedroom window. By this time
Freddy was in the house. She didn’t want
any part of it, either, I suppose. But
curiosity got the better of me. I had to
see.
So
I grabbed a flashlight and this time went out the front door, hoping for a
better vantage point. As I rounded the corner to the side of our house where
our little shed is, I shined the light toward the shed’s roof. Yep.
There it was. One of the biggest
opossums I have ever seen. Kind of
explains why Freddy was so hesitant in her vocals this time. That thing made about three of her. And if you have ever heard a cornered opossum
growl, then you know that mystery sound number one was solved.
But
then it finally registered to my sleep-addled brain that mystery sound number
two was once again active. The
bark. The loud, angry, wolf-like
bark. Slowly I panned the stream of
light downward toward my neighbor’s back yard.
And as the beam reach a point much farther from that ground than I would
have liked, I saw two small red flashes gleaming back at me through the
six-foot high chain link gate. Frightening,
to say the least. I adjusted the beam to
a wider flow of light and once again pointed in the direction of the horrifying
racket. And there, intermittently
growling and barking like a police dog turned loose – now in my direction - was
a Marmaduke-esque figure. But … my
neighbor does not have a dog.
For
a long moment I was too stunned to move.
The angry giant opossum overhead.
The also-angry and even gianter dog below. The only thing between me and certain
destruction was a flimsy gate that Evil-Marmaduke could easily hurdle and the fact
that I was pretty sure I could outrun the opossum. In those short moments a few things began to
crystallize in my mind. No, my life didn’t
flash before my eyes. But I did recall
that another neighbor’s rather large dog has been known to scale the fence into
this neighbor’s back yard for reasons unknown to the rest of mankind. Surely that was the same, ordinarily playful
creature we see on our neighborhood walks.
And opossums really like to eat things like roaches, and we have begun seeing
some of those big old roaches in our back yard lately. So the ogre-esque opossum was probably just
visiting for the breakfast buffet. See? A calm, fresh look at the circumstances can change
your perspective on most things. I must
confess, however, that I may have ventured out in the yard a time or two – just
to check things out, mind you. I have to
keep my little family safe, you know?
1
Peter 4:10 says, “Each of you should use
whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s
grace in its various forms.”
Father,
thank you for our little protector.
Thanks for that gigantic protector who lives a few houses over as
well. We feel pretty safe from
intruders. Amen.
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