Death Karma

Last week you'll remember I told the tale of finding the racing pigeon downed by the hawk. It seems for the remainder of the week I was fated to be reminded that death happens.

Thursday at the bank I pulled into a parking spot, with plenty of room to my right - several empty spaces, only to see a struggling possum. First he was still, then attempted to rise, weakly on wobbly legs, he would take a few drunken steps and drop, still again. It was horrible to watch, his repeated tries to retreat to a safe place in his condition. He was quite torn up under his head...the only damage I could see. The man to my left was on the phone and I asked if he was calling about the possum. He nodded. When he finished his call he told me he called animal control, that the possum had been hit by a car in the parking lot.

I waited for Sean in the bank, trying vainly to ignore the horror to my right but those familiar with human nature will know how nearly impossible that was and my eyes kept straying to the fatally maimed creature in it's death throws ten feet from me.

Sean returned to the car, by then Animal Control had arrived but too late to do anything more than scoop it up in a garbage bag and plop it in the truck. For some reason I remembered a book I had read as a teen; "Death Be Not Proud", a story written by a father whose son had lost a brave battle with a brain tumor. A book I had not thought of for maybe forty years.





Saturday my awesome sister-in-law and I decided to do a little kayaking. I turned over the first kayak, got it all situated and off she went. I turned over the second kayak for myself and caught a whiff of something not so pleasant. As I cleaned off the kayak, I saw the source...a good sized but still DEAD catfish bobbing belly-up in the shallow water near the retaining wall. WTF. Good man Paul disposed of it.

I hope that was the end of my weird death karma for awhile.

Sincerely,
Elfscooter