Playing Possum

What a start to the day when the dogs go bounding out (almost through) the screen door into the back yard chasing some unseen varmint. I could see them rustling around and growling but had no idea what it was. Choosing to ignore it so that it might go away, I went back inside and washed my face. I went to let the dogs in and there was a nice fuzzy white possum lying in the middle of the backyard—dead. Yuck, yuck, yuck. The dogs had been all over it with their paws and jowls. My skin was crawling, but I had to get them away from the animal. I let them in the back screened in porch and raced to get Jim. Surely, he would know what to do with a dead critter. Instead, he was a little ill that I woke him up (it was 7AM) and said that it was playing possum. Of course! That thing had fooled the dogs and me. I still had to deal with the dirty dogs though. I went to get the dogs and used Lysol and a towel to disinfect their mouths and feet. I looked out at the possum and sure enough its little chest was heaving. It was patiently waiting for the dogs to be fully inside. Later on, Jim and I checked the backyard and the possum was nowhere to be seen. What a great survival trick.
I began to wonder where we as humans use this trick. If we are attacked in relationships, at work, do we “play possum?” I’m not talking about aggravated assault here; this is more an attack on our psyche, our feelings. Do we just roll over and take it? When the boss/friend/spouse/co-worker gets to you, what do you do? What would Christ do? Isn’t turning the other cheek a way of playing possum? Instead of retaliating and going on the defensive, the possum completely gives way. My dogs could have actually killed it, but they didn’t (I think because they are terrible hunters and would rather play than kill). The possum walks away, a little bruised, but a survivor.