SO we will skip the part about me forgetting everything and messing up some stuff and worrying and OH MY BAD WE ARE SKIPPING THAT! Okay so 12a our 8yr old chow/lab mix Sissy is sitting on the porch. I come out to the drink fridge on the proch for a pepsi. She sniffs the air and bolts towards the front acre of our property (towards the highway) I yelled, "DONT GO IN THE ROAD!!!!" As I was running back into the house to get the flashlight. Run back out and try to flash down into the yard, nothing. So I am walking around the ducks puddle and the swing set fumbling along fast as my flip flopped feet will move me, half way into the yard, OH MY GOD.....guess what it is. Can you guess? No? It's a flippin' possum. Our WONDERFUL dog has it cornered in the MIDDLE of the yard, running circles around it. It's mouth wide open hissing and biting. She is dodging it like Ali, floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. All I could think was, "Don't let it bite you." Of course my witnessing the act and then running full speed back to the house to promptly force my 72 yr old grandfather out of his cozy recliner and into the yard with the 20ga (I would normally be doing this but it was dark and Sissy is his dog, were I to make a mistake, my heart would shatter). So, I run back out the door not waiting for him and about 20 feet away from the showdown I slam on my foot brakes. She still had that horrible creature cornered. The old girl never missed a beat. I just kept telling her, "be careful" and "don't let it bite you" over and over. My grandfather finally mosies into the yard with the gun in tow. "Sissy! Come here" he says, and she moved towards us and out of the way, the possum decided to play dead. MUAHHAHA, he had no idea he wouldn't be playing in a few sweet seconds. "POW" he was gone. I walked up to the disgusting critter, and sure enough at a 20 ft range he had shot the creature right in the heart. AMAZING. So then, at 5:30am I hear Sissy barking again. I was thinking it was the fox. Well, I was wrong. I threw on my flip flops again and ran out with the flashlight towards the coop. Nothing. Looked in the bushes. Nothing. Looked in the yard. Nothing. So I was headed back into the house and happened to look into the laundry shed. There was a 2x3ft piece of styrofoam from the ceiling that had fallen down onto the washer. "What the heck?" I said to myself, because I tend to talk to myself quite a bit. WELL, I walked into the laundry room and right over my head I see a black thing slither back into the the frame of the shed. Man I made like Jesus and walked on water. I was back in the house dragging my grandfather out of his comfort. "You better get up, get up, for real!" "Why?" he says. "BECAUSE THERE'S A FREAKIN' SNAKE IN THE WASH ROOM!" Then of course he asks did I see it, what was it. How did I know it was there, blah blah blah. After about 45 more seconds of coaxing, he gets up and comes out there. He couldnt get a look at it since it had sunk down into the styrofoam in the side so i got up on the dryer and looked, yeah it was sooo there. Well, he decides hes going to pull the styrofoam out. Snakes tail is hagning down but he's to slow to get hold to it. It slithers back up into another panel of the siding. LOVELY. So, after 30 minutes of hacking at tightly fit styrofoam and sending me back in the house for the Saturday Night Special he decides to take a blind shot at the spot where he thinks the snake is. Well, he missed. Mind you he was shooting at the washroom. No one was in it. It was fine. Anyways, he goes back in the washroom and digs out more styrofoam. Hacking at it with an ancient fireplace ash cleaner. He broke it by the way. Once he manages to get to the darn snake which was on the opposite side of the wash room from where he started, he gets the SNS and click. click. click. click. What the heck? Apparently he needs new rounds. I am fairly sure he's had those for like 15 years. So I run into the house for more. While I am gone he knocks the darn snake out of the ceiling and wacks hin one good time with the small shovel he was now using. Didn't kill it. So now it runs under the darn standing frigidaire. You can imagine. That sucker was gone. Well, he was still there but short of moving the frigidaire there was no way to get to him. So we jiggled a stick under there and stabbed around at the sides and behind it. Nothing. So, unfortunately there is no happy ending about the snake. BUT, that possum sure won't be getting any chicken or quail dinners, EVER. Nor will he ever PLAY dead again. The saga of farm life, what's next? T-rex?