Critters in School

non-subject:  "in school"
AWW ~ november 2, 2009
~*~

1995

Joshua came running into the house.  "Mom!!  Mom!!!  Come outside quick!!! Sam found something!!"  Joshua's five-year old voice had that sound of excited urgency; life was happening and it couldn't be missed! He ran back out the front storm door as quickly as he'd run in.  He probably had on his cowboy boots; he was proud of his boots.

"Oh boy," I thought.  "Sam probably pulled some old dead mutilated animal into the yard,"  I mumbled to myself.  I'd been sick of late and my energy was low.  I got up the gumption to go out and see what Sam had drug into the yard.

Sam was a great dog, a mutt we picked up from someone. He'd been abused as a pup and then kept on a chain; he seemed grateful to have a family.  He was part golden retriever, part other brands, and I guess some chow; his tongue was partially black.  He was so protective of our family and his turf, I think he would have given his life for any of us.

I walked down the hall and through the living room on the hard wood floors out into our front yard.  With his nose, Sam was nuzzling a tiny creature.  I was surprised he hadn't eaten it.  Sarah and Joshua were with Sam eyeing the little hunk of life.  I imagine Sam didn't eat the little thing because Sarah and Joshua were so intrigued with it.

"It's still alive Momma!"

"Did Sam bring it into the yard?"

"No. It was just lying here.  I guess it's momma dropped it or somethin'."

I looked at the hairless rodent.  Sam looked up at me with his ever obedient eyes like he was asking what he should do.

The rodent's head was huge. It's eyes were closed.  It was breathing quickly.  It had no cuts or scratches.  I wasn't sure what kind of rodent it was.  A gopher?  A mole?  It had to be only a few days old; it's head was so big compared to its body.  It hadn't grown into it yet. It was ugly-cute.

I went and got a shoe box while Sarah, Joshua, and Sam guarded the little life.  I can't remember now what I put in the shoe box for bedding, old socks maybe?  I took the shoe box outside and in went the little abandoned life.  I pet Sam on the head.  "Good dog."  He liked the approval from his human.

At the time, Sarah was seven years old and Joshua was five.  I had chosen homeschooling as the avenue for their education.  I first heard about homeschooling at a LaLeche meeting when Sarah was an infant.  "You can do that?" was my response; a typical response in the late '80s regarding homeschooling.  These days, in 2009,  homeschooling is pretty well accepted and known, at least in North Carolina where so many families homeschool that the government department can't keep up with them.  I'm not sure of the current North Carolina laws, but I don't think they've changed much from the '90's.

I called the pet store where Sarah and Joshua and I volunteered every two weeks.  It was owned by Jack and his wife.  We really liked working there.  The pet store was where Sarah got her guinea pigs, Rosey and Piglet.  One was a gift; the other we bought.  Sarah took great care of them. Of course they procreated, as piglets do.  Guinea pigs are born with their eyes open and fully furred.

On our way to the pet store with the little life in the shoe box, I was rummaging my mind trying to identify the creature.  It looked familiar; but as it was so young, it was difficult for me to pinpoint.  Then it hit me. "It's a squirrel!! That's what it is!"  Sarah and Joshua's eyes were wide with excitement.

We had a new member to our family; Squirrelly the Squirrel, a very original name chosen by the children.  At the pet store Jack confirmed that Squirrelly was indeed a squirrel. We bought kitten formula and droppers and a bottle.  It doesn't take much to fill a squirrel's tummy.  Sarah would get up with me in the middle of the night for the wee-morning hour feedings.

Squirrelly, who went to Washington, DC, with us because we couldn't find a squirrel sitter.  Squirrelly, who would snuggle  in my shirt pocket stuffed with Klennex.  Squirrelly, who opened his eyes after five weeks or so; first his right eye and then a few hours later, his left eye.  Squirrelly, whom Sam would lick clean, including Squirrelly's private parts to help Squirrelly urinate.  Squirrelly, who rode in a special pocket book stuffed with Kleenex.  Squirrelly who would squeal if he got too far from warm bodies or Kleenex.  Squirrelly, whom was adopted back by a momma squirrel late in September or early October as she picked him up by the scruff of his neck, as momma squirrels do, and scampered off to the neighbor's tree scrambling up to her elaborate, enclosed, leafy squirrel nest.

For six weeks, in our on-the-road, in-the-house, in-the-yard, at-the-park, life-as-it-happens school, Squirrelly was our teacher, and a fine teacher he was.