austin_dern (austin_dern) wrote,

Rooms were made for carpets, towers made for spires

Another interruption by the immediate: bunny_hugger came in yesterday with worrisome news: there was a wounded squirrel in the backyard, by the pond. He (to assume a pronoun) was dragging himself by his front claws; his back legs and tail seemed unresponsive. Unfortunately he got surprisingly high in a tree before we could get really prepared to grab him, with heavy gloves and the pet carrier. We were worried he couldn't get down, or would be harassed by fully-able squirrels and maybe fall from the tree, surely dooming him. But we also couldn't do much. We set some food out by the pond and supposed we could check back later.

Later, he was back on the ground, and bunny_hugger was able to chase and catch him. Apparently he tried to climb a fence rather than go under it, and in his state that gave her enough time, as he got his back legs caught in the fence. He was still surprisingly strong --- you don't realize how big a squirrel is until you're up close, and don't realize how strong they are until they're really mad --- but the gloves were thicker than his teeth and we soon had him in the basement, with a towel that he hid under, some bread and (roasted) peanuts, and a water bottle. This was well after the office hours for the animal rescue in Howell, so we'd have to worry for him overnight.

In the morning bunny_hugger woke first, and looked at him, and worried that the squirrel had died from the stress of captivity. But he was breathing, if not very responsive, and while the animal rescue folks hadn't called us back to say what to do, we set out there trusting they would have called if they could not handle taking in any animals, or any squirrels, today.

They took the squirrel into the back room for a preliminary checkup, and the longer it took the better I felt, since surely if the squirrel were dead or were beyond help that'd be easy to tell. They said that the squirrel was alert and feisty and ready to bite anything, so presumably it was just being in the pet carrier that stressed him out so. He had some kind of head injury --- there was blood around his eyes, that we hadn't recognized, and ``some kind of discharge'' from his nose --- besides his back legs and tail not being responsive. They gave him something for the bleeding.

On Sunday the vet should be in and be able to investigate more fully, and they gave us a case number so we can call and find out how he's doing. This produces a nasty decidability problem, since if the prognosis is grim we don't want to know, but, if it's promising of course we want to know. So what we'd really want to know is, would we want to know the result? But knowing whether we'd want to know is as bad as knowing, if there's sad news. So it's hard to think about calling or not calling.

Trivia: An estimated five-sixths of the original 3,000 Great Scotland Yard ``New Police'' were dismissed for one cause or another within the first four years of the force's operation. Drunkenness and immorality were causes for summary dismissal. Source: London: The Biography, Peter Ackroyd.

Currently Reading: To Touch The Face Of God: The Sacred, The Profane, and the American Space Program, 1957 - 1975, Kendrick Oliver.


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