There was that chipmunk that my youngest pulled from the jaws of death--that is, the neighbourhood tom cat. Yes, that was bad enough when he brought the stiff but quivering body in for me to have a gander. But when I rounded the corner to the laundry room in response to their calling and laid my eyes on this frozen, one-eyed rodent, that was the last straw. I mean, I loved that their hearts were sympathetic to the animal kingdom and its progression, but that they would simply pick up and carry the dead, was beyond the call of duty. Somehow, as a blogger though, a mother can still muster enough gumption to take a photo for all of you to enjoy.
Not long after the squirrel incident, a tiny finch hit our window. Now, as a bird-lover, I was voluntarily part of this rescue, especially since the small, injured one was still alive. We laid him in a shoe box with water and nyger seed and waited. It was only an hour later when the once crouching and panting body was fluttering in the window sill wanting freedom. We released him and shared the overwhelming feeling that we were a team of rescuers.
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. Matthew 10:29