In Which I Ramble on about Death and Nature…
My daughter is much braver than I am. And much more comfortable with nature. She declares that some day she will own hundreds of animals and live on a ranch or a farm, or somewhere “out in nature”. Now I love nature too…as long as it is not biting me, smelling yucky, or giving me a rash of some kind. But I do not think I want to live in it. Though I will someday gladly visit my favorite girl out in her spot of nature, wherever that may be.
This afternoon while fulfilling her chore of walking the dog out back to let him do “his business” Abigail spotted something in the driveway: something that looked an awful lot like a dead squirrel to her. Our girl is an animal lover extraordinaire, so instead of being disgusted by such a sight, she immediately felt compassion for this poor probably-not-alive creature. And sought to be certain it was actually dead before disposing of it respectfully. To which end she evidently felt she should touch its non-moving whiskers, just to be sure. And when the squirrel did not respond to this, she ascertained it was indeed, most sadly, quite dead, and should be given a proper burial.
Then, using good judgement, she decided that before she picked it up with the scooper for “doggy business” (another one of her chores) she should check with her Dad. So..she came in and casually asked him if it was ok for her to scoop up aforementioned dead squirrel to which he quickly responded in the negative. I guess he thought that wasn’t appropriate, so he did it for her. Which was really nice of him and all.
But how appropriate and/or nice do you suppose it was for him to then bring the expired animal into my kitchen where I was preparing supper just so he could show it to me?