ConfusedMuse
08-31-2016, 06:17 AM
A little about me... I'm a deceivingly boring, soon-to-be-single mother of two.
A little about me and squirrels... well, for one thing, I've had an affinity for squirrels for a very long time. In fact, I was a "squirrel girl" on social media long before they turned into memes (and the coming of age for squirrels as a cultural icon both amuses and reassures me). It has been my habit for many years to introduce myself by saying, "I'm extremely eccentric and a little bit absent-minded but that's not my fault. Squirrels run my brain. I hired them to remind me of important things like where I left the car keys and to put on pants before going out. I pay them in peanut butter... If I forget, they mutiny and then God only knows what I'll say or do." I will sometimes leave off in the middle of a sentence or pick up in the middle of a sentence when I walk through the door (a conversation I was having with you in my head prior to seeing you and naturally I assume you know about it). I call this "chasing squirrels." Squirrels are less a fixation than they are a personal totem, I guess. I love to watch them. They sort of explain me, that's all.
Enter Clio (and on that note, it's pacha time so I'll run and feed the little one and be back in a jiffy. Mmmm. Jiffy. Peanut butter...).
Okay, I'm back, and in case you're wondering, no--I wouldn't dream of feeding my baby peanut butter. It's a joke, part of the cultural icon, that's all. Not that I don't wonder what she'd do with it, but I value my fingers. I'm fairly sure I wouldn't get all of them back if I tried it.
Clio should have been named Surprise! since she came into my life so suddenly and just when I was already wrestling with homelessness (I'm still living with my soon-to-be-ex), a new job (six days a week, eek!) and health issues (fibromyalgia, PTSD and perimenopause, oh, my!). When the hus-butt came tearing through the house with a big, orange Home Depot bucket I thought he'd lost his mind. I'm still a little mad at him for it, but as it turns out, he might have done the right thing.
Little Clio ran right at him, he said, and a little research explained that she must have been away from her mamma too long and desperate for care. Her chin and forehead were skinned up but she hadn't been caught by a predator. The closest rehabilitator was over an hour drive away, though, and being a mom myself, I was angry at hubby for taking her away from her mamma and I wasn't about to send her even further away. I was determined to reunite them... but Mamma was either injured in the same dastardly tree-trimming incident as her baby, or else too frightened to return to the area. A second baby turned up the next day but disappeared before hus-butt could coax it into the bucket. I fear a neighborhood cat got it, since I hid for hours with Clio in a box three days in a row and Mamma never came around. In fact, I swear that every adult squirrel in the neighborhood disappeared for a week after the incident.
$45 later (for Esbilac, electrolytes and fresh veggies), I'm a foster mom. Had Clio been any younger or more seriously injured, I would have sucked it up, conquered my fear of night driving and gotten her to a rehab facility, but after hours of research I was convinced that she was around 6-7 weeks old and therefore capable of eating solids in between formula (which is necessary, since I'm the only one in the house not afraid of handling her and I work all day). I spent three sleepless nights wondering if I should still send her away... and then she nibbled a carrot round, proving my suspicion! Breakthrough! She now eats about 2 tablespoons of veggies and mushrooms three times a day and 12 CCs of formula three times, as well (plus an extra 5 CC boost in the morning before I go to work to tide her over, since she demands to be fed the moment I wake up and that would extend her to 10 hours between "pachas" which I don't think is good). She's right around 9 weeks now, I think, and positively HUGE with a bushy tail, clear eyes and plenty of energy. Having been a rat owner before this, I knew it was possible to build her a "condo" out of storage bins, which I did the second week (lots of air holes drilled in, bottoms duct taped together and a four-foot-tall branch from bottom to top on which she does regular acrobatics for me). So far, she shows no tendency to chew the plastic, for which I'm grateful because until I'm in my own house I can't build her a sturdier cage.
I'm sort of lamenting the cost in time (only one day off per week!) and materials to build a pre-release cage that she will use for such a short time, but that's the plan. Clio is my kid, my foster-fur-baby, but most of all she's a friend and I would be happiest seeing her back where she belongs and just hopeful she'll remember me. I've considered dipping her tail in food coloring just so I can tell her from the rest when she's gone and still watch her play lol.
So, yes--I've been stalking this board and others for weeks. I'm preparing to buy a bag of Henry's (because I hope she'll be ready to really wean, soon). But I still have so many questions... which led me to break down and join the forum. She'll be my foster for at least another two weeks and then a guest for another few while she transitions.
Gosh, I'm still not entirely sure she's a "she."
And so begins my squirrel-y tail--ahem, I mean "tale."
A little about me and squirrels... well, for one thing, I've had an affinity for squirrels for a very long time. In fact, I was a "squirrel girl" on social media long before they turned into memes (and the coming of age for squirrels as a cultural icon both amuses and reassures me). It has been my habit for many years to introduce myself by saying, "I'm extremely eccentric and a little bit absent-minded but that's not my fault. Squirrels run my brain. I hired them to remind me of important things like where I left the car keys and to put on pants before going out. I pay them in peanut butter... If I forget, they mutiny and then God only knows what I'll say or do." I will sometimes leave off in the middle of a sentence or pick up in the middle of a sentence when I walk through the door (a conversation I was having with you in my head prior to seeing you and naturally I assume you know about it). I call this "chasing squirrels." Squirrels are less a fixation than they are a personal totem, I guess. I love to watch them. They sort of explain me, that's all.
Enter Clio (and on that note, it's pacha time so I'll run and feed the little one and be back in a jiffy. Mmmm. Jiffy. Peanut butter...).
Okay, I'm back, and in case you're wondering, no--I wouldn't dream of feeding my baby peanut butter. It's a joke, part of the cultural icon, that's all. Not that I don't wonder what she'd do with it, but I value my fingers. I'm fairly sure I wouldn't get all of them back if I tried it.
Clio should have been named Surprise! since she came into my life so suddenly and just when I was already wrestling with homelessness (I'm still living with my soon-to-be-ex), a new job (six days a week, eek!) and health issues (fibromyalgia, PTSD and perimenopause, oh, my!). When the hus-butt came tearing through the house with a big, orange Home Depot bucket I thought he'd lost his mind. I'm still a little mad at him for it, but as it turns out, he might have done the right thing.
Little Clio ran right at him, he said, and a little research explained that she must have been away from her mamma too long and desperate for care. Her chin and forehead were skinned up but she hadn't been caught by a predator. The closest rehabilitator was over an hour drive away, though, and being a mom myself, I was angry at hubby for taking her away from her mamma and I wasn't about to send her even further away. I was determined to reunite them... but Mamma was either injured in the same dastardly tree-trimming incident as her baby, or else too frightened to return to the area. A second baby turned up the next day but disappeared before hus-butt could coax it into the bucket. I fear a neighborhood cat got it, since I hid for hours with Clio in a box three days in a row and Mamma never came around. In fact, I swear that every adult squirrel in the neighborhood disappeared for a week after the incident.
$45 later (for Esbilac, electrolytes and fresh veggies), I'm a foster mom. Had Clio been any younger or more seriously injured, I would have sucked it up, conquered my fear of night driving and gotten her to a rehab facility, but after hours of research I was convinced that she was around 6-7 weeks old and therefore capable of eating solids in between formula (which is necessary, since I'm the only one in the house not afraid of handling her and I work all day). I spent three sleepless nights wondering if I should still send her away... and then she nibbled a carrot round, proving my suspicion! Breakthrough! She now eats about 2 tablespoons of veggies and mushrooms three times a day and 12 CCs of formula three times, as well (plus an extra 5 CC boost in the morning before I go to work to tide her over, since she demands to be fed the moment I wake up and that would extend her to 10 hours between "pachas" which I don't think is good). She's right around 9 weeks now, I think, and positively HUGE with a bushy tail, clear eyes and plenty of energy. Having been a rat owner before this, I knew it was possible to build her a "condo" out of storage bins, which I did the second week (lots of air holes drilled in, bottoms duct taped together and a four-foot-tall branch from bottom to top on which she does regular acrobatics for me). So far, she shows no tendency to chew the plastic, for which I'm grateful because until I'm in my own house I can't build her a sturdier cage.
I'm sort of lamenting the cost in time (only one day off per week!) and materials to build a pre-release cage that she will use for such a short time, but that's the plan. Clio is my kid, my foster-fur-baby, but most of all she's a friend and I would be happiest seeing her back where she belongs and just hopeful she'll remember me. I've considered dipping her tail in food coloring just so I can tell her from the rest when she's gone and still watch her play lol.
So, yes--I've been stalking this board and others for weeks. I'm preparing to buy a bag of Henry's (because I hope she'll be ready to really wean, soon). But I still have so many questions... which led me to break down and join the forum. She'll be my foster for at least another two weeks and then a guest for another few while she transitions.
Gosh, I'm still not entirely sure she's a "she."
And so begins my squirrel-y tail--ahem, I mean "tale."