Playing Dead

First of all thank you all for your kind and encouraging words. Secondly, to answer some e-mail from a few concerned folks today, nope, I didn't hang myself. I'm still alive and kicking. Although I admit to being a temperamental artist, suicide just ain't an option.

Here are the six reasons why I can't give you guys a good post today...



The mom opossum was hit by a car early this morning. These guys came out of her pouch on their own seeking food and warmth. Kids, damn kids, found them and came running into the house, "Mom, please! You have to help! Hurry!"

I called all of my animal caretaker friends. None of which have room in their shelters or are certified to care for opossums. I am actually breaking the law by having them in my house right now. I should be certified to care for "wild animals" but I haven't gotten that far yet. Actually, I am just a volunteer and don't really want to be certified to do this mothering to rodents on a regular basis. Alas, I made many phone calls, striking out each time. The only place I found that could take them is four hours away from where I live. No one from their staff will meet me halfway. Fuckers!

I got a lot of people offering advice, none of which has worked so far. All of the "manmade" bottles and syringes are just too big for their tiny mouths. I saturated a washcloth with opossum formula and they are all trying to latch on as I type this. Wish them luck.