One of the baby skunks died today. It was injured somehow--possibly by my dog when I let him out this morning, possbily by a stray cat or other creature. My daughter and I took care of it as best we could; the vet said she couldn't help us. The Wildlife Center didn't call back until after it already died, but the lady there was nice, and said if anything happens to the others to give them a call.
I know it's the cycle of life: things are born, live a short while, then die. But why do they suffer? Why do animals, and people, die when they haven't even lived long enough to learn how to protect themselves? Why do some people care so much, and others don't seem to care at all?
Some days I have answers to those questions. Some days I don't. Today I don't know anything at all except that I am one of the ones who care, and I feel terrible.
Carol's Favorite Music Playlist
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