there was a tiny squirrel in the street just in front of my driveway when i pulled up this afternoon. he/she seemed hurt, not dead, as is often the case around here. dead. i told fiona to go in the house and i would be in in a minute. i walked down the stone steps to the street and saw that he/she was just sitting there, breathing heavy. he/she was tiny, and very....very....cute.
i thought, he/she could have either fallen out of the 4million story oak tree that is rooted in our yard but canopies the street where he/she lay or he/she was hit by a car and survived, sort of.
i did what any sappy animal lover would do...i scooped him/her up with a broom and a shovel and i carried him/her up the hill to my yard and placed him/her under a bush. have i mentioned how tiny? open your palm and lay your other fist in it. fist=squirrel. i couldn't see any "boo boo's", only a little bit of blood behind the eye. i gave water. i spoke in whispers, "it's ok it's ok".
let me just say thank jesus for superhero husbands because when the tears started to flow he knew what needed to be done and he knew i wasn't the one to do it. i couldn't have for starters which means that poor baby could have suffered for hours. or days for fucksake! supermike took a shovel and severed it's head from it's body. he promises it was quick, probably not painless but certainly the pain was tremendously brief, right? it had to be done though. i would have been up all night long, walking outside to see if he/she was still alive. no way. it had to be done. so he did it. apart from the overwhelming feeling of- first haiti and now this?!?! i did feel better. he/she was gone, but not in pain anymore. no more suffering. for any of us, ok?