My boyfriend knew how much it would upset me to see him suffer, but I insisted stopping because I just couldn't leave him... So we pulled up behind him so the lights were shining on him and I grabbed the 2 pairs of work gloves I have in my trunk for just this situation. We were afraid to touch him because he kept laying down, and then would struggle to stand up and move, but then would lay down again. We didn't want him to turn on us and hurt either of us, so after I called my mother (who suggested we try to CAREFULLY get him into the grass) we tried to make up a game plan. In between me sobbing uncontrollably and my boyfriend talking to my mother on the phone (since I no longer could because of said sobbing), a cop pulled up and was very nice and helpful. We told her what happened and she called Animal Control to come get the possum. He was in seriously bad shape, and I knew he was going to die, but being run over (and over and over) was just not an option. The cop said we could go and she promised to sit with the struggling possum until Animal Control came, so we left and I wished the possum love and hoped he had a good life.
I was in pretty bad shape emotionally then, and I still am... All I keep picturing is the possum struggling in the roadway. This morning on the way to work, I drove past the spot and all that was left was the dried up pool of blood. It made me sad again because I know what happened and how his life ended. My boyfriend had another (and better in the imaginary world) explanation. He said that possums play dead, but that modern possums have to be more convincing when they play dead, so they carry around fake blood and guts but he told me that when Animal Control got there, the possum just laughed at them and ran off to play.
Even though I know he's wrong (and maybe a little crazy like me), it is a nicer option to consider than the reality....right?
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