TheBanyanTree: The Incredible Killing Machine

[Monique Young]

By which I mean the Illustrious and Infamous Honey. Sounds innocent
enough, doesn’t she? Honey. Just 65 pounds of Chow Retriever, lots of
fur and big brown eyes and, very polite under the most trying
circumstances, well-mannered now and then, and everyone thinks she’s
just soooooo cute.
 
They’ve never seen her go after a possum. Lucky them. I wish I hadn’t
seen it either. This will take some recovery time. 
 
So there we are, out for our 9:30 pm walk, which happens never on
schedule and only occasionally at 9:30. The important thing is that we
were out, at night, in the dark, alone. We were by the fenced off nature
preserve that sits smack in the middle of our apartment complex. There’s
a pond in there with ducks, and, I’m assuming, nature stuff. Which is
why it’s a nature preserve. I don’t venture in there. Honey has ventured
in there before, of her own volition and in direct violation of a direct
order not to, but she’s never been particularly obedient. Anyway, we
were close to the nature preserve and the outdoor pool, minding our own
business. At least I was, minding my own business, but Honey was
apparently minding someone else’s business. 
 
She jerked on the leash. This happens when she sees something
interesting, such as a cat. She likes cats, and we have a plethora of
them. Usually I just jerk back on the leash, but this time there would
be none of that. She was not to be deterred. She jerked the leash and it
was either let go, or be pulled down. We’ve had a lot of rain and the
ground was rather muddy. I let go, knowing I’d end up face first in the
mud otherwise. Against the wall that encloses the pool area something
was moving, and The Incredible Killing Machine was on it before I’d
regained my balance. “It happened so quickly, officer, I didn’t see a
thing!” It’s not just a cliché, really. Something with a prehensile
tail, claws, light in color, was being vigorously shaken by The Machine.

 
At first I was afraid it was a cat. We have many cats roaming around
loose, so many that management has said they’re going to have them
rounded up and taken to our local animal sanctuary. But it did not look
like a cat, at least not a normal cat. It looked like a rat, a large
rodent. I have an irrational fear of rodents, so I didn’t want to get
any closer than I was. And I’m not particularly interested in saving the
life of a rodent. It was a large rodent though. I yelled at dog to drop
it.
 
You can imagine how effective that was. The shaking continued. Dog did
drop it, looked at it, then looked at me. She looked rather happy. And
why not? Doesn’t this just sound like fun? Then she picked it up again
and shook it, she waved it around, the poor thing would have suffered
severe brain damage from shaken possum syndrome if nothing else, and
then she dropped it again.
 
What was I doing while all this was going on? Several things, actually,
despite my seeming indolence. Yelling, “Stop, Honey, put it down!”
Wondering how close I could get without becoming a victim. Saying “oh,
gross,” to myself. Losing my appetite. Pacing. Wondering if Honey was
going to grab her prize and run off into the wilderness, which was just
a few feet away, with it. 
 
Honey dropped the possum again, then looked at me. It was obvious what
she was thinking. She’s never actually caught anything before, and her
primary concern at this point was, “Hey, mom, what do I do next? Do I
eat it? Take it home? What?” 
 
Since the flailing had, at least temporarily, ceased, I took the
opportunity to find the end of her trailing leash, making sure I didn’t
go anywhere near the dead or dying creature (what if it was only
damaged?). I didn’t expect Honey to leave her victim easily, but she
did. The possum was playing possum, or was dead, or was napping, or
something, and Honey was content to walk away. She looked back a time or
two, as if thinking about returning for her prize, but I never wavered.
We left the possum. 
 
Andrew and I returned later, to see if the possum needed to be disposed
of, or if it did not. I took a quick look and returned to the safety of
the car, just in case the supposedly dead possum should rise and attack.
We left it there, and I phoned the management office and reported the
murder, leaving out the fact that I was harboring the murderer in my
apartment. Today the scene of the crime is quiet and there is no sign of
the victim. No crime tape either, which leads me to suspect the police
are not doing their job effectively, but that’s just as well, as I can’t
really afford a defense lawyer for the hapless Honey right now. 
 
Andrew took me out for dinner, to help me recover from the shock. A
margarita was called for. Honey was left at home alone, to think about
what she’d done, but I don’t think she did think about it, other than
“Wow, that was fun!” 
 
The Incredible Killing Machine is quite pleased with herself today. She
assures me it’s not her last kill. I assure her it most certainly is. 
 
 
Monique