Thursday, September 1, 2011
Pardon me but there is a chipmunk attached to your hand
Just like every other summer day, I decided to skip one house up the street to see what my cousins were up to.
The answer. Picking blackberries.
Yum.
We spent the next half hour gathering up the supplies we would need. We borrowed some Tupperware without asking, we packed some water in case we got thirsty and we threw in a compass just in case we got lost.
The four of us, my sister and two cousins, headed into the woods just behind our houses. The shade from the mature trees was cooling. We knew our short cool walk would be rewarded with delicious, juicy blackberries.
Sure enough the bushes were overflowing. We started picking and eating and picking some more. Much to our delight a chipmunk ran across the path. It stole a berry we had dropped and scurried up a tree.
Out of nowhere a crow swooped down and peck at the chipmunk, knocking it off the tree and causing it to land in an awkward lump on the path in front of us.
We all just stared. Did that really just happen? What should we do?
Like any quick thinking 10 year old, I decided to pick up the chipmunk.
Not a good idea.
It latched on to the skin between my thumb and pointer finger and would not let go. i screamed. My sister screamed. My cousins screamed. i shook my hand. I pulled at that stupid rodent.
Nothing. It was stuck.
We had no choice but to seek help.
Mom.
She'll know what to do.
We ran the entire way home, leaving our prize berries and our backpack of supplies behind. When we reached the yard, mom was outside hanging laundry on the line.
My sister said, "Don't be mad" which usually just made my mom mad. I was still crying when I lifted my hand to reveal the now near death chipmunk attached to it. It is the first memory I have of my mother swearing.
My dad had to come home from work. My mom wouldn't touch it. My dad discussed options with my mom in a hushed voice that involved words like drowning, pliers, hammers and rabies.
I was terrified but I was also starting to like the little guy whose teeth were buried into my flesh.
My dad put on gardening gloves and pried his mouth open enough to released my bruised and a little bloody hand. I wouldn't let him kill the chipmunk, which in hindsight only prolonged his suffering.
He lived, paralysed, for a week in a tiny shoebox.
The only thing he would eat were blackberries.
The answer. Picking blackberries.
Yum.
We spent the next half hour gathering up the supplies we would need. We borrowed some Tupperware without asking, we packed some water in case we got thirsty and we threw in a compass just in case we got lost.
The four of us, my sister and two cousins, headed into the woods just behind our houses. The shade from the mature trees was cooling. We knew our short cool walk would be rewarded with delicious, juicy blackberries.
Sure enough the bushes were overflowing. We started picking and eating and picking some more. Much to our delight a chipmunk ran across the path. It stole a berry we had dropped and scurried up a tree.
Out of nowhere a crow swooped down and peck at the chipmunk, knocking it off the tree and causing it to land in an awkward lump on the path in front of us.
We all just stared. Did that really just happen? What should we do?
Like any quick thinking 10 year old, I decided to pick up the chipmunk.
Not a good idea.
It latched on to the skin between my thumb and pointer finger and would not let go. i screamed. My sister screamed. My cousins screamed. i shook my hand. I pulled at that stupid rodent.
Nothing. It was stuck.
We had no choice but to seek help.
Mom.
She'll know what to do.
We ran the entire way home, leaving our prize berries and our backpack of supplies behind. When we reached the yard, mom was outside hanging laundry on the line.
My sister said, "Don't be mad" which usually just made my mom mad. I was still crying when I lifted my hand to reveal the now near death chipmunk attached to it. It is the first memory I have of my mother swearing.
My dad had to come home from work. My mom wouldn't touch it. My dad discussed options with my mom in a hushed voice that involved words like drowning, pliers, hammers and rabies.
I was terrified but I was also starting to like the little guy whose teeth were buried into my flesh.
My dad put on gardening gloves and pried his mouth open enough to released my bruised and a little bloody hand. I wouldn't let him kill the chipmunk, which in hindsight only prolonged his suffering.
He lived, paralysed, for a week in a tiny shoebox.
The only thing he would eat were blackberries.
Inspired by Mama Kat's genius
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About Me
- kisatrtle
- I'm a 41 year old (gasp) freelance writer, school cafeteria manager, wife and mother. I have three children and one anxious and overweight beagle. I use my blog to make others laugh, to share some cool crafts, to document my lunchlady adventures and to lament about the challenges faced by us all on the journey called life. Thanks for visiting. Please leave some crack...um...I meant some comments.
11 random thoughts:
That was both hilarious and sad. I laughed out loud at the image of this skinny little ten year old kid screaming and trying to pry the chipmunk from her hand. Thanks for the hilarious visuals this morning.
Stopping by from Mama Kat's.
What a sad/funny/slightly terrifying story! I feel so bad for the poor chipmunk, but just how random is that to have a chipmunk attached to your hand? I bet I think about this story all day!
How crazy, I can't imagine running home with a chipmunk stuck on my finger! I think it's something about "don't be mad" that makes every parent mad.
I laughed loads reading this. Great post. I can just imagine it. :) xx (visiting from Mama Kats)
Oh my gosh, this is so funny, in a sick kind of way, I guess! I can imagine you running home with a chipmunk attached to your hand! I can't believe you wanted to keep the thing alive after that! I've had my own run ins with chipmunks, and it's not pretty!
That had to have hurt! You did a great job telling the story though and totally captured my attention. Stopping by from Mama Kat's.
How long was this chipmunk attached to your hand? holy cow that is funny yet quite disturbing!
That was hysterical yet quite disturbing! How long was this chipmunk attached to your hand?
What a great story to share. I can see this making for a memorable sit-com episode. I can't imagine how much you must have been freaking out with that chipmunk attached.
And I'm sure you now have a fear of chipmunks that you can't shake!
Wonderful story, so well written. Love it!