Skip to main content

Trapped Squirrel

A baby squirrel managed to climb up to my third floor balcony this morning and clung to the edge peering downwards too scared to take the plunge. She remained like that all morning as J and I got ready to leave. I wondered if I could sneak some food for her without terrifying her even more.

Each time I stepped near the French window her body turned taut with fright. I decided to leave her to her own devices. J got her doll over and showed her the trapped squirrel saying sagely "Dolly, look what happens when you wander away from Mommy. Never ever do that, okay ?" J and I agreed that the baby squirrel was in a "lot of trouble" and that we had to find a way to get her back to her Mommy.

After I got to work, I called the maintenance people to ask them to help the squirrel. They promised to have it taken care of promptly. When I got back home in the evening she was still latched to the edge of the balcony look down forlornly - thirsty and hungry all day. I felt a pang of guilt.

I rushed upstairs to see her. By the time I got to the balcony, she was not there anymore. Maybe her limbs had grown numb and she had fallen down. There was no sign of her in the grass below. I was relieved she had survived such a long day, that she had not died on me.

I know her petrified eyes would have haunted me had she died. I still remember one wounded bird that had died in my hands twenty years ago. The way her warm body turned cold and stiff, her fluttering heart stilled.

I wondered then as I do now why this it such a big deal - I am not even a vegetarian. Do I have compassion or don't I ? Do I love life or don't it ? Have I taken more than I have given ? I am merely acting out of guilt ?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...