Okay, I can't let go of the blog. I'm trying but it won't let me. So I'll post when I can and be happy with that.

The baby is going to the wildlife rehab woman this morning. We made it through two nights, he's still alive and has a healthy appetite, but looks a little dehydrated. Everyone is cool with this because there's a visitation arrangement being negotiated. Plus no one except me seems to be willing to get up twice a night for feedings. Yesterday I had a flashback of my own babies, one of whom turns fourteen today, and the quiet hours that they sleep when they are just home from the hospital. You want them to sleep, but you have to check and check to make sure they're breathing. That was me and the racoon yesterday. Okay, I told myself, I understand why people do the wildlife rehab thing. It's like raising babies all over again. Except their eyes and ears are closed and they have ring tails. Time to hand this little creature over.

"I think animal testing is a terrible idea; they get all nervous and give the wrong answers."
~Joseph Blosephina