I’m the girl who holds squirrel funerals.

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you already know that 1. I am the weirdest person ever, and 2. I really love animals. Except for the pug, with whom I have a love/hate relationship.

I get so upset whenever I see an animal that has been hit by a car. I adore almost every animal God put on this Earth (except for spiders, scary bugs, and snakes, but no one likes those anyway).

Today, I was walking my dog when I saw a tiny, gray ball of fur curled up in our yard. I thought it was strange that an animal would be laying out in the open like that, especially considering how many hawks we have around here. I brought Kirby inside and went to go investigate.

I crept up and saw it was a tiny baby squirrel. It looked like he was just sleeping, curled up among the blades of grass. I didn’t want to leave him alone since he was so small and could easily be attacked or eaten by another animal. I took a leaf and gently brushed his back. He didn’t move. That’s when I noticed his bottom arm looked like it was bent in a funny position. I slowly rolled him over and saw that it was obviously broken and it had probably been from a fall.

This tiny, little helpless creature was dead. And I was heartbroken.

You could tell he had a family that took care of him: his fur was smooth and clean and he looked well-fed. I didn’t want to just leave him there, knowing the weather or other animals would destroy his body. So I organized a squirrel funeral.

I guessed he had fallen from a branch right above where he lay, so I dug a small hole next to the base of that tree. I laid him inside, covered him, and then placed rocks and pinecones at the head. I ran around my yard gathering flowers to cover his little grave.

I wanted his family to be able to visit him from their tree and thought he deserved a nice, little memorial. I cried a little bit and then went inside and left him to rest in peace.

I am officially a crazy person.

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