I Saw A Dead Possum
Yeah, I did saw one this afternoon. A medium-size grey possum lied on its side in front of the garbage bins, front legs stretched up beside the head. Eyes closed. Jaws clenched. Its expression revealed no sign of suffer. Must had fallen from nearby trees, set aside the possibility of being electrocuted. No single peck of the fur was burned. Lying unanimated like that, it looked like one of the stuffed animals in museum display. Or in a wicked collector’s treasure chamber.
It must have been there for quite some time.
I, having walked from the station to my unit, had the urge to bury the creature. Heading straight to the kitchen to get some plastic bags, I planned to borrow a shovel from the neighbourhood and brought the body to the nearby empty ground. Problem is, there is no vacated land other than the small garden in front of the unit and a trail of hard soil beside the railway.
Wherever it is, I should recover the body first.
Using two small plastic bags to cover my palms, I first checked its pulse. Possums have a tendency to lie to its enemies, to play dead in order to escape the same fate. No sign of beating heart, no heat escaped from the skin. The possum’s lie had become its reality. I put it into a bigger bag. Now, to bury the body……….
I looked around, and spotted a young man and his grandfather. I approached them quickly and asked for a shovel, plus the reason why I needed it. Then, the young man said:
“Just put it in the bin”.
There was a brief silence for a few seconds. I was trying to comprehend the young man’s words. You don’t bury the body? The grandfather seemed to take note at my confusion, then went on a lengthy tale about the possum which was early spotted last night near the pool. Why it lied dead beside the bins, no answer for that. “It’s a common occurrence around here”, he added. “Normally people would put it in the bin”.
“Is it okay?” I asked. “I mean, the body would smell…..”.
“You could put it in the other neighbourhood’s bin if you want”, the young man joked, playful smile painted on his smooth visage. Well, that is mean. I thanked them and did as they told me, put the possum in the bin. Moments before I dropped the body in to the depth, I heard myself mumbling, “You deserve a funeral”.
Really, the possum did deserve a funeral.
I prayed, then dropped the bag. It landed with a soft thud in the bottom. I headed back to the unit.
The image of the possum, its soft grey fur, its stillness, its fate, still clings in my memory until now. What disturbed me most was the fact that people treat it like any other garbage. This animal, possibly one of the endangered species, makes its way to cope with the modern jungle and inescapable interactions with us human. What kind of bravery does the possum hold? Really, such value only ended up at the bottom of a garbage bin.
Funeral with white roses and casket is for the domestics like dog or cat, or a cremation service that allows you to bring back home the ash in an ivory pot to be placed beside a photograph of you and them.
The possum, as wild and distant from us, only has a place in the cycle of life to feed lesser organisms. No photograph, no remaining of cuddling its soft fur left on our skin, no sound of it purring ever heard.
Such is the irony of loving others different from human.