We are all have our little quirks. Cough, cough, some people more than others, cough, and I like to think, or hope, that those quirks make us more memorable and lovable to some extent. Another bonus of going to the cabin for me is that I get to indulge in one of my favourites. I love returning small dead animals, usually on roads, back to nature. We all deserve respect in death. Mice, voles, shrews, birds (depending on how intact they still are and if their species is a common disease carrier) and whatever I can manage to move with sticks I find on the roadside should be treated with care and reverence too.
A few days ago, my pal and I were walking up to another friend's cabin via a shared driveway with tenants. We were chatting with our friend's father, who had been sawing wood in the drive, when I noticed something small, light grey, and soft looking in the wood chip strewn dirt.
This was when our friend's father decided to introduce me to the tenant.
"Haaaaaaaaaave you met Cari?" he asked the slighly disgruntled islander.
I feel no shame from what I do. Morbid? A little bit. Gross? Maybe to some. I love giving animals peace after losing their lives at the hands of humans. Be it inadvertently by run-ins with larger carnivorous pets or by car or by poison, I will be there to offer some form of solace. In the end, we are all alone. We are all animals. You don't often see humans rotting by the side of the road now do you? Why should a mouse? This is one of my many missions in life.