Friday, May 20, 2005


Growing up on a farm, with a veterinarian for a father, I was perpetually surrounded by cats, dogs, cows, sheep, horses, chickens and the occasional bewildered kangaroo. I am thus a firm believer that a) animals are way cool, b) they have their rightful place in the world and c) they need to be kept in that place. Professional Grumpy Old Man and possum anti-advocate Frank Devine agrees.

POSSUMS belong in the wilderness. I don't. That is why I spend so little time sitting in trees in national parks eating gum leaves.

The three great things that Western Australia has over the eastern states is that we don't have poker machines, we don't have tollways, and we don't have possums in plague proportions defacing our trees, scuffling in our roof spaces and shrieking at each other across our lawns at 3am.

In fact, we only have about six possums in the entire state, at last count. They're called Mike, Steve, Carol, Sharon, and two Robs. I've only ever met Mike, and he was asleep at the time. They pretty much keep to themselves.


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