<Of course, he is not
> breathing now, because I am smarter than the average possum eater<G>,
> and so is Bear.
A few years ago when I lived in South Florida, I walked outside to
find a possum. It was late and I'd just returned from a holiday fest
in which I'd imbibed more than my share of holiday cheer. My Dalmation
found the possum and pinned him to the ground. When I got there, I saw
blood on the possums head and figuring he was dead, I carefully
inserted him into a grocery bag. I tied it up real tight and had to
kind of circle him around to get the body to fit in. Then I inserted
that into another bag and tied it off tight.
I put him out in the alley for the trash and went to bed.
When I woke up the morning, of course the dog wanted out to sniff at
the "dead" possum. All we found were two chewed through grocery bags.
I forgot that possums play possum. Poor thing woke up to find he was
playing a Houdini routine!