Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

The little one had
fallen of its drey and as I was on an evening stroll in the balcony, I found
our cat Chutki sitting near it. At first I though it was yet another victim of
Chutki’s kill. Though she doesn’t eat them she keeps her hunting instincts
alive hunting down squirrels, geckos, lizards and at times, if she manages to
lay hands on, even little pigeons.

But here she sat looking
at the baby squirell and as I approached seemed to tell me in a plaintive meow “I
am not responsible for it.”

I saw the little
kit was still breathing and had yet to open its eyes. A few crows were also
circling around hoping for a feast so I decided to take the kit in. Finding out
a small shoe box was not much of a problem and I put it in.

I embarked on this
journey knowing pretty well that Lopa, my wife, will have a solution. She is a big
lover of cats (hence Chutki found its foster home where she now lords over),
dogs and all creatures big and small. (I unfortunately do not fall in any of those
categories!).

Soon a search was launched
on how to feed the kit and also look for someone who would love to give the
little one a home. Messages were posted; facebook, instagran, twitter et all were
sent on a hunt. My niece helped me with a couple of numbers so did Lopa’s
niece. But with the day fast collapsing into the night nothing was quite
working out.

I remembered my chaddi-buddy
Subrata, who now lives in Baltimore, had squirrels as pets and messaged him. He
called back immediately telling us how to feed it and what precautions to take.

Lopa was soon on
the job. Her maternal instincts kicked in as she used as earbud dipped it in
milk to feed the kit, whom she had by now christened GIllu. One look at my appreciative
nod and her by now famous quotes followed. “Isilyie ma, ma hoti hai, “she said.
Which reminded me how obnoxiously antediluvian the word ‘birthing person’ is that
seeks to replace the word mother.

Tucked cozily into
its new home Gillu slept soundly waking up just to be fed three to four times a
day even as the search for a foster home continued.

However, keen Lopa
was to keep it at home, one look at Chutki changed her mind. The cat, though
not a threat to Gilu as yet, sulked whenever Lopa fed Gillu. And the thought
that once Gillu grew and pranced around, it could become Chutki’s victim, convinced
us that the squirrel had to go.  

Four days passed and
Gillu, fed with love and care, started to grow and open its eyes and we decided
to hand it over to Blue cross. That’s how Kannan, a Man Friday on many occasions,
came home. One look at Gillu and he decided that instead of Blue Cross he will
bring it up. And Gillu found a home.

“Take it immediately
to Blue Cross or it won’t survive,” a contact had told us the evening we were
trying to help it. But survive it did. Maybe Darwin’s theory of survival of the
fittest ought to have a clause adding that it is the survival, not just of the
fittest, but the destined.