When You Adopt a (Potentially) Rabid Squirrel

When you adopt

A (potentially) rabid squirrel

Your husband

Is very...understanding

He knows

That you love

Animals

All kinds of animals

Healthy ones

And ones that might be sick

And ones that might be very sick

And ones that might be sick to the point where

They’ve got the tiniest bit

Of foam

Around their little squirrel mouths

But that’s why we have cages

And medicine

Of course, there is no medicine

For rabies

So you can’t really give Herbert

--That’s the squirrel’s name, Herbert--

You can’t really give Herbert

Any medicine

But you can make him more comfortable

Put a little pillow in his cage

Give him lots of water

Since he’s so thirsty

You didn’t know that rabies

Could make an animal so thirsty

But then again

As you keep telling your husband

You don’t know for sure

If Herbert has rabies or not

And the vet you called

Refuses to see him

Because he doesn’t understand

Why you, in his words--

‘Kidnapped a wild animal’

--In the first place

You are shocked

And dismayed

At his tone

And language

And way he dismisses you

Just because he’s forsaking his duty

To treat all of god’s creatures

Big, small, and violent

Herbert is quite the character

Thrashing against the bars

Of his new little house

Ripping the pillow
You gave him

To shreds

At one point, he even manages

To stick his little head

Through the latch

At the top of the cage

And the next thing you know

You have a potentially rabid squirrel

Spitting at you

And shrieking

While his teeny-tiny body

Flails inside the cage

And oh boy

What a to-do that is!

Your husband suggests

Just taking the cage

And leaving it in a forest somewhere

But that would be

Like sentencing Little Herbert

To death by exposure

And you could never do that

You’re not god

You can’t decide

Who lives and who dies

And who gets to die comfortably

Inside the room

Your mother-in-law stays in
Whenever she comes to visit

Which won’t be for awhile now

Since you can’t be sure

Herbert didn’t contaminate the room
In some way

With all his spittle flying everywhere

And when your husband calls

To tell her

Why she’ll have to stay home

For Christmas this year
She is not at all pleased

And begs him to leave you

Claiming that you’re somehow imbalance

Just because you care about

Protecting local wildlife

She tried to claim

That it was the same

As when you took in

Alfred the Possum

And yes, you should have told your husband

Before you installed Alfred

In the downstairs bathroom

But he barely ever used that bathroom

And besides, Alfred most definitely

Probably did not have rabies

Like Herbert potentially probably does

And so there was only a little bit of danger

Involved when your husband opened the door

And Alfred jumped on his chest

Besides, heart attacks are very common

For men your husband’s age

And some people feel

That once you have one

You’re unlikely to have another

So it’s probably best

That he got it out of the way

And the only regrettable part

About the whole thing

Was that Alfred the Possum

Ended up running

Up the chimney

And as far as you know

He’s still there

Because you closed off the chimney

Years ago

So you just leave little snacks

In the fireplace

And hope Alfred is doing all right up there

When you adopt a potentially rabid squirrel

You bake it little treats

And read to it at night

And become more and more convinced

That it actually doesn’t have rabies at all

Because rabies doesn’t take very long

To kill its host

As far as you know

And Herbert does get more aggressive

With each passing day

He also is very much alive

And strong enough

To chew one of the bars of his cage

Clean off

Resulting in a chase around the house

That culminated in you

Securing him in the downstairs bathroom

Only to forget to tell your husband once more

Thereby resulting in yet another heart attack

Although it is good to know

That old wives’ tales

About heart attack immunity

Are, in fact, very unreliable

Although you’re relieved

That Herbert does not seem to be

At death’s door

It is tricky to now have

A full-time child in the house

You have to take a leave of absence from work

You cancel plans with your friend

You tell your husband that the upcoming vacation

To the Barbados is now indefinitely on hold

While you could ask someone

To watch Herbert for you

You don’t trust anyone that much

And besides, if he ever chews through

Another bar

How fast can a squirrel-sitter manage

To duct tape pillows

And a mixing bowl

To their body?

Not everyone is as prepared

To rescue a lovable rodent from itself

As you are

Your husband has started

To insinuate

That perhaps

You’re becoming too wrapped up

In Herbert’s well-being

The same way you became

Perhaps too invested

In Alfred

And Victor

And Donovan

And Skinny Lou

Aside from the mountain lion

None of your adopted darlings

Did all that much damage

And even Captain Von Trapp

Only really sort of nicked the mailman’s leg

When you consider how quickly

You were able to stop the bleeding

Using only that hideous dish towel set

Your mother-in-law bought you

At least it was good for something

Once your husband

Has given you

Yet another ultimatum

To morph into the sort of woman

Who leaves wounded angels

To die in your front yard

You sit up with Herbert

Wanting to spend

As much time as possible with him

Before you drop him off

At the nearby animal hospital

With a note explaining how special he is

And how, given the chance,

Maybe he could make a recovery

Or learn to be only slightly murderous

It’s as though Herbert knows what’s coming

Because, for the first time since you’ve known him,

He seems to settle a bit

Oh sure, he’s still clawing at the little teddy bears

You’ve given him to play with

And he’s still guzzling water

And spraying his surroundings

Every five minutes

But you can see in those red eyes of his

That he knows what you’ve done for him

And that deep down

A part of him

Appreciates it

And that’s really all you want

All you’ve ever wanted

To have someone
Depend on you

Someone who has no choice

But to depend on you

Someone you can

Lock in a little cage

And shower with love

And give a good life to

Until they become

Too sick to help

Not like a husband

Who doesn’t even know

How sick he is

Who thinks he just scares easy

And doesn’t like how your food tastes

Because you use too much salt

And can’t remember things

Because he’s getting old

A sick squirrel knows

Why it’s sick

Animals always know

That’s why they’re so smart

Good thing men

Aren’t as smart

As all that

Good thing for you, anyway

No, Herbert is nothing

Like your husband

Nothing like him

At all