Saturday, May 3, 2014

Charlie bit my finger.

A squirrel bit me. 
File that under things that I thought I would never say. 

Charlie, the rescued squirrel who bit me. 

Tuesday afternoon, we were on a bit of a scavenger hunt after the tornado. One of the things missing that we felt like we had searched everywhere for was Emma's sandbox top. (You know the red, plastic crab shaped sandbox for kids?) My brother went looking in the woods and spotted something red in the distance. Not only did he find the top to the sandbox, he found a helpless squirrel, with what looked to be a broken back leg. He scooped him up with his hat and yelled for me to come. I found a milk-crate that had been blown into our yard to put him in. This wasn't my best idea (hindsight is 20/20). He was terrified and crawled to my hand and bit me. REALLY hard. It hurt SO.BAD. He was like a snapping turtle-he was not letting go. As you might imagine, I yelled a few choice words. My brother contacted someone he knew who rescued squirrels and Charlie is now healing from his wound and living a happy squirrel life. Despite getting bit (and getting a tetanus shot the next day), I would do it all over again. 

"We can not do great things, only small things with great love."
~Mother Theresa

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