One of the earliest
entries posted here concerned our backyard opossum Eduardo (Link), who used to visit us most nights in Tuxedo Park, partaking of the food we would place on the back terrace for the feral cats whom we could not persuade to join us indoors. Light-shy but confident of his place in the world and his right to be
fed, Eduardo was a beloved semi-companion.
When we moved full-time to Pennsylvania seven years ago, we mostly lost contact with Eduardo. A friend continued to leave food for the
animals in Tuxedo Park, but we were here in Berwyn, beginning our long era of semi-confusion.
Two days ago, the Saturday before Easter, we decided to have a drink on our back terrace before preparing dinner. It was warm-chilly and we wanted to see the sky turn purple from the top of Signal Hill. Caroline was getting deep into Chinese Astrology by Paul Carus and I was reading The Ivan Moffat File when I felt a presence.
On the flat below
the terrace, beyond and through the iron rail I saw Edouardo walking very slowly, deliberately and confidently across
the property in the direction of the covered-over swimming pool, which has now become a
tadpole farm, birdbath and animal reservoir. Now an adult and much larger, he has retained his highly
intelligent face and serious, committed countenance. If you
placed a pair of spectacles on him, he would look exactly like a children’s story-book character.
Caroline is
usually the one pointing out these marvels to me and
I often fail to appreciate them, tending to be annoyed by the
interruptions and annoying in my inconsiderate, incurious responses. This
time I was the one breaking into her thoughts, but she understood the
imperative and the miracle.
George
Jones: Playing Possum (Link)
Dedicated to Tom Clark, the first person outside our family who appreciated Edouardo.
Dedicated to Tom Clark, the first person outside our family who appreciated Edouardo.
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