Little Robin went to his new home this morning, and I am a bit wrecked about it. I was only supposed to have him for a few hours originally, and ended up having him a whole week. I am really glad I did, even though I knew I would get attached and it would be hard to let him go. How often do you get to bottle feed a baby raccoon?
Yesterday I talked to the woman who ended up adopting him, and made plans for her to come pick him up this morning. I slept on the couch with him last night, just to have a little more time with him. He woke me up at 2:00, demanding to be fed, and climbed all over my face until I complied. I'm willing to put up with a lot, especially when I know the time is short.
When she called this morning, saying she would be here in fifteen minutes, I immediately got teary, and went and woke Robin up, so I could spend a few minutes with him before he was gone. My son came down uncharacteristically early so he could have some raccoon cuddles too.
I feel like a bit of a dork for being this upset about an animal I only knew for a week and one that I knew from the start I couldn't keep. He's just so cute and sweet and perfectly wonderful, even if he will turn into a chicken-killing machine when he grows up. I so wish I could have kept him, but there's no way we could have kept the poultry safe with an adult raccoon who's not afraid of dogs living on the property. Plus, our neighbors got a few hens and one of our roosters went over there and knocked one of them up, and she hatched out fourteen (!) chicks and they would be a little upset if our pet raccoon started murdering their babies.
I am embarrassed about how much I have cried today over Robin leaving. Sometimes I wish I was tougher. Although, if I was tougher, I probably wouldn't adopt all the orphans to begin with. Maybe what makes this one more difficult is the randomness of it. Kittens, we've done. No big deal. Puppies, ducks, chicks, even the occasional baby goat has lived in the house. Maybe it's something about the wildness, but the baby raccoon experience feels like a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing, and it's hard to let that go. Also, he is very cute.
I will be okay in a couple of days, but I am grieving this loss almost as if he had died. He went to the most perfect home imaginable, and his new mom has promised to send me lots of pictures and updates, but when I got home from goat rounds today and nobody was screeching at me to feed and cuddle them, it felt a little empty. Like something was missing. I have nerves of steel when the occasion demands them, but I really wish I could call them on demand. I feel honored to have spent a week taking care of this tiny, precious creature, and I know he will be well loved and cared for, but I can't stop feeling sad about it yet.
My hairdresser called me this afternoon, though, and asked if I would adopt another bantam rooster, since his daughter lives in the city and can't keep him. Of course I said yes.