Jennifro

Country Livin'

This morning during piano, Toccata was interrupted by Mitchell screaming, "Mom!! Come outside quick!  Lucky's eating a baby chipmunk and it's still alive!!" Let me guess...Nick's gone. Has he EVER been here for trauma?  Reluctantly, I stand to go investigate--feeling powerless to find the nerves it'll take to put a bloody pup out of it's misery.  "See.. it's right under this grass." Sure enough. Poor tiny, wet body.  Oh my gosh, I think... it must have been just born--it's so little and still wet. 

But, I can barely get my wits about me, cause poor Natalie's having a near-impossible time holding Cujo back by her collar.  "Mom, help me!! I can't hold onto her any longer!"  I tell Mitchell to run quick and get me a paper towel so I can pick the thing up...but I realize there's no time--the dog's coming unglued and running straight for me.  Squeamishly (I know I said I wasn't) I quickly rifle through the tangled grass and try to pry the scared little thing from it's makeshift burrow.  You can handle this, I tell myself, remember it's just a little tiny baby and it needs your help.  Gently, I free it and lift it closer to get a better look.  Wait a minute.  Look at the tail...chipmunks don't have long tails!  Sick!  It's a slick, mauled mouse, quivering in my hand.  Mitchell has now come out with a HUGE tin foil baking tin. "Mom...what IS that?  Is it a chipmunk?"  I tell him--with most of my compassion now gone--that it's a mouse and he needs to put it in the tin and go dump it on the other side of the fence where Lucky can't reach it and who knows...maybe it will get better.  (uh huh..)

    

Well, I immediately go in and wash the sickness off my hands, then peer out the window to see where the undertakers have decided to lay the body.  Oh nice--that's a good choice, kids--right under the swing.   Oh well.  I call them in to get there backpacks since we were completely running late.  A few minutes later, Natalie and Mitchell have their stuff gathered and I ask, "Well, where's Camille?  We HAVE to go!"  Natalie looking out the window says, "Uh Mom....look I think she's kissing the mouse."  "PLEASE!" I yell.  "Say she isn't!"  Sure enough I look out and she has her face buried into her cupped hands--nuzzling away!

At full speed I run outside yelling, "CAMILLE!!!!!!!!!!" (to the delight, I am sure, of neighbor, Vallie, who is loading her one civilized child in the car) YOU WILL CATCH A DISEASE!!! PUT THE MOUSE DOWN!!  PUT IT DOWN CAMILLE!!!"  Gently she sets it back down in the mulch. By now of course she is crying and the binky's on the ground and (to my horror) four of her fingers are smooshed in her mouth. I pick her up and carry her sideways under my arm, yanking her hands out of her mouth while she's crying and yelling, "Don't carry me like an airplane!!!"  Inside, I wash her hands (twice) and her binky and hope for the best.

After the kids had left and things settled, I figured that this morning definitely fell into the category of "making a memory with your kids" so I went out and took a picture of the mouse--who, by the way, was still resting where Camille laid him.  I'd like to say I felt for the little guy, but the realization that he was one less rodent I'd have to catch in my kitchen this winter, gave me a twinge of heartless satisfaction   Heaven help him.

About an hour later Camille went out to "find" her mouse.  Try as she might--she couldn't.  I assured her that he was fine and happy and had just gone back to his family---the turkey vultures.