How Our Best-Intentioned Wedding Anniversary Plans Went Totally Squirrelly
Somehow it’s another wedding anniversary that didn’t go as planned
It was supposed to be a special anniversary.
For Husband and me.
Lucky number 7.
It was not the anniversary we planned.
Husband tried to surprise me with out-of-town plans.
No one was waiting for his last-minute search.
He pivoted to Plan B. “Let’s splurge and go to a fancy new restaurant.”
Which was also very exciting.
Until an hour later when the water main on our street broke.
God bless the city workers who came out on hot Saturday afternoon.
Forcing sonic booms of air through our pipes.
They blew out our plumbing.
I got on the phone with the city.
Husband took the dog for a walk.
I heard Pup barking like crazy.
“What’s going on?” I yelled.
“A baby squirrel dropped from the sky!” Husband said in amazement as Pup yelped. “She got her mouth on it. Twice.”
Somehow, Husband got her to drop it.
I Googled, “How to reunite mother and baby squirrel.”
All would be right if I could fix this.
Because the city certainly wasn’t coming to fix our pipes.
I placed the baby squirrel at the base of the tree.
Miraculously, mama squirrel started scampering up and down.
What an amazing consolation prize!
Because with no water.
There would be no fancy dinner for sticky, dirty us.
Time for Plan C.
We scrounged our way over to the local fast food chicken joint.
When I spotted a stirring in the ivy.
I pulled back a few leaves.
There was the baby squirrel.
Mama never came back to get him.
The neighbor’s huge orange cat was yards away.
Making big plans.
I made a mad scramble looking for wildlife rehabbers.
“If you can get here before 5 o’clock I can take him,” one texted me.
My watch read 4:27.
We live 30 minutes away.
I coaxed the little guy into a big cardboard box and dashed to the car.
The baby squirrel cried for his mama the whole way.
“I get it, Baby,” I tried to comfort him. “Sometimes I cry and want my Mama, too.”
We made it to the animal control place just as they were locking the door.
“Thank you,” they said. “Cindy, our squirrel person will take care of him. When he’s big enough, she’ll release him on her 40-acre farm.”
I sat in my car and sobbed.
At all that we cannot control.
Like whether a mama squirrel comes back to get her baby.
Like $750 plumbing bill to fix our pipes.
Like when the right guy comes along.
And the little things we can.
Like driving an hour to save a baby squirrel.
He’s not going to have the life he planned.
Sounds like it might be more magnificent.
“I get it,” I thought, thinking of the sticky, dirty guy waiting for me at home.
The guy who understands saving a baby squirrel wins over anniversary dinner reservations.
How he’s so much more magnificent than anything I planned for myself.
Here’s to seven more years with my 40-acre farm of a man and all the surprises that await.
What would you have done with the squirrel? Please share in the comments below.
And if you like this story, you might like my latest book,