Kibbles is NOT a chicken. In fact first time I saw her she didn't look much like a squirrel. She looked more like something you'd fish with than the critters that raid the feed bags out in the shed.
Stacey called early on a Monday morning after we'd been hammered with a frawg-strangler storm the night before. "The dogs got a baby squirrel! I thought it was dead! It's not! Can you come get it?" Of course I did, and ever since I cracked the top of the shoebox and laid eyeballs on that little pink worm wrapped in an old T-shirt, I've been hopelessly in love.
Poor thing was covered in dog slobber and dirt. She had a bruise where the doggies "tasted" her. They must have thought she was a squeeky toy--or food. Squirrels are NOT Kibble! Sixty-five pound puppies play too rough for a tiny pinkie. She must have been born just a coupla days before that mean ol storm tossed her out of her nest. If the whole nest was blown down then she's one lucky girl--the other babies were lost in the domain of Mishka and Bear (doggies).
Kibbles is a tough little girl. She's beat natures odds and my own incompetence as a squirrel mommy. My bald worm is sporting soft gray fur and her little paws will be white. In another week her eyes will open and her little ears have unglued from her head. She has twitchy whiskers and her tail is starting to bush--a lighter gray than the rest of her. Together we have conquered getting formula into her and the poop and pee out (did you know baby squirrels won't excrete anything unless a mommy cleans em?)
It's August 23. In the month since Kibbles squirmed into my heart she's opened my eyes to the wonders of the "Kingdom of Squirrel" my own backyard--the peeps of the baby squirrels calling for their mommies; the adolescent squirrels "neeyh neeyh neeyhing" Tyson the cat; the chattering of the big guys defending their territory. It's always been there. I just pay more attention now that I'm fostering one of their kin.
Will Kibbles eventually join them? Guess that's up to her. She will always be welcome on my lap and if she chooses a life of pampered ease, I will gratefully serve her needs. If she is to be an outside squirrel and gamble that nature will show her the same kindness it did when she lost her nest and litter-mates. So be it.
Right this minute there's the warm miniscule weight of a micro-squirrel curled up in my hand. She's a happy girl--and so am I.
Squirrel report: August 28: I was feeding the girl and two little black eyes glittered at me. Kibbles is opening her eyes. By Monday or Tuesday she should be able to look at her world--and then there's no keeping her down on the farm.
Oct. 3: Kibbles is a big girl now and plays till she drops, drags all of her toys into her bedroom (box) to sleep with and loves riding around on a shoulder, head, arm, neck or under a shirt (and those little feet are prickly!!!! Apparently she also has some unique features I hadn't noticed till I took this picture.
