God knew it would be hard for me to let Otis get adopted. He's going on Thursday, after several false starts ... his new parents are rich :). He'll be really happy, but I'm very sad. What will I do without my baby piggy to cuddle with?
Jesus and my German Shepherd say I should be take care of a baby squirrel.
This afternoon, while I was typing in the office, Bear started screaming. Bear's a terrible arachnophobic, so I zoomed out all ready to squash a spider. Turns out he saw Otis whining at the bottom of one of the bookshelves and thought he'd rolled his ball under there. So he reached under - and got a furry surprise. Hence the scream.
Since it's so nice, we've been leaving the door open. Evidently someone (I have serious suspicions here) brought in a baby squirrel. He wasn't gnawed on; he was just chilling under the shelf.
It had to be Pandora. She was the only puppy totally uninterested in him ... she sat on the other side of the room and watched while we took care of him. She's always up in our business. Anyway, the boys are more likely to ignore him or chew on him. They'd never just bring the squirrel in. And I don't think he walked in on his own - he seems like he's a little sick, or at least very dehydrated.
So now we're squirrel nurses. We'll give him goat's milk and Pedialyte. I hope he lives through the night.