Dear Twinkleberry:
Last week, you shocked me with your sudden appearance on my patio rug. I saw you there, so still and quiet, and I thought you were dead. Upon closer inspection, you were very much alive, but injured. Huge chunks of fur were missing on your back flanks and tail. There were deep gashes on your quivering pink body.
Why you crawled to my porch, I cannot say. I was told just this weekend that animals seem to respond to me. I don't know if that is true - I've never thought of myself as an 'animal whisperer' - but did you? Did you know that when the time came for you to pass that my family and I would bury you in the wooded strip between the cornfield and the basketball court instead of callously tossing you into the garbage bin or leaving you to rot?
I am sorry that the wildlife hospital never called me back. I am sorry that Arthur's friend gave you such a fright when he picked you up. Not maliciously, just out of curiosity. But most of all, I am sorry that you suffered and that I could not do anything to attend to your injuries.
It was a lovely funeral. The sun was out, the sky was blue. We said kind words and laid you gently in the hole before covering you with the dark brown dirt. The boys mentioned over and over again that evening that they hoped no one would disturb you.
While I am full of sorrow for your passing, I am grateful to you, dear Twinkleberry, for your mortality. I am grateful that you showed my boys the fragility of life and the dignity of death. I am grateful to you for giving my boys an opportunity to care for the animals around them and learn about the cycle of life and death.
Blessed be, Twinkleberry.
Last week, you shocked me with your sudden appearance on my patio rug. I saw you there, so still and quiet, and I thought you were dead. Upon closer inspection, you were very much alive, but injured. Huge chunks of fur were missing on your back flanks and tail. There were deep gashes on your quivering pink body.
Why you crawled to my porch, I cannot say. I was told just this weekend that animals seem to respond to me. I don't know if that is true - I've never thought of myself as an 'animal whisperer' - but did you? Did you know that when the time came for you to pass that my family and I would bury you in the wooded strip between the cornfield and the basketball court instead of callously tossing you into the garbage bin or leaving you to rot?
I am sorry that the wildlife hospital never called me back. I am sorry that Arthur's friend gave you such a fright when he picked you up. Not maliciously, just out of curiosity. But most of all, I am sorry that you suffered and that I could not do anything to attend to your injuries.
It was a lovely funeral. The sun was out, the sky was blue. We said kind words and laid you gently in the hole before covering you with the dark brown dirt. The boys mentioned over and over again that evening that they hoped no one would disturb you.
While I am full of sorrow for your passing, I am grateful to you, dear Twinkleberry, for your mortality. I am grateful that you showed my boys the fragility of life and the dignity of death. I am grateful to you for giving my boys an opportunity to care for the animals around them and learn about the cycle of life and death.
Blessed be, Twinkleberry.
0 comments: