My pet chipmunk

As a little guy I had a very soft heart. In our 1952 era home, we had a swing in the trees in the front yard. The long-needled pines were either B&B or home to many birds and squirrels.

This particular day I came across an injured chipmunk. You may have seen the tiny furry creatures in light brown fur with yellowish coloring on their backs. It occured to me that helping this disadvantaged animal was in its best interest and that I might, through this kind act, make a friend for life.

My first clue should have been the great effort the chipmunk put into avoiding me. Instead, the fact that it could not climb but a few inches up the tree spurred me on. Had it told me in the beginning that it would bite if I picked it up I might have left it alone or put it out of its misery. Instead, I wound up running into the house with a painful puncture wound, a little blood, and a new life view. Little did I realize that this event was preparation for raising teenagers. Come to think of it, that is the kind of a teenager I was. Karma, karma, karma. And, Bob -1, nature 1.