An opossum struck fear into the heart of Murray Hill yesterday. No one knows exactly where it came from, but I’m amused by how confused everyone was by it.
For nearly eight hours, a quiet corner in Murray Hill was transformed into a kind of temporary zoo, as passers-by stopped to gawk and guess the identity of the long-snouted cat-size animal that paced along a narrow stone ledge about nine feet over a brownstone garden, sniffing, shaking and yawning.
I used to see these damn creatures all the time, but that was in Indiana. I drove home late one night and saw one in the garage, its long pink tail glistening in the headlights, its beady eyes blinking at me.