I ran across an article in the Washington Post the other day with the intriguing headline, “Cross-eyed opossum draws Facebook following long before her debut at German zoo.”
“Ted,” I said to my feline friend, who hadsprawled himself, as usual, on part of the newspaper. “It appears that a cross-eyed opossum can draw a quarter of a million Facebook fans. You have 233.” Then I chuckled with what you might call—appropriately enough—schadenfreude.
Ted appeared unmoved. But later I found the following on the monitor upstairs.
i know i should not be envious
and therefore I refuse to be
and what after all is fame that I should crave it?
i know i’m not exactly golden globe material
no one comes up to me on the red carpet runway
with a camera crew and asks me who are you wearing
it used to be more like who are you eating
though i’ll concede those days are behind me
while i’m walking around on the keyboard for hours
trying to string together a few pretty phrases
an opossum with an ocular issue gets tabbed for stardom
having done zip in her life the pathetic clueless little rodent
i know i know she’s a marsupial but listen
does breeding really count for nothing?
i am felis domestica
kin to the big cats
yes kin to the jaguar the leopard the lion that rules
the primordial game-laden savannahs of africa
whereas an opossum is kin to a koala
and it roams your neighborhood hoping
you’ve left the cover off the trash
i move with pantherlike grace
aloof and imperturbable
answering to no one
whereas an opossum toodles under the hedges
and flees through a hole in the fence
did you know that a group of lions is called a pride?
a group of opossums is called dinner
just a little feline humor while i digest this