My darlings, have I ever shared the story of Rocky raccoon? His mother was tragically killed along one of our busiest roads, leaving poor little Rocky behind.

He was just a few weeks of age at the time. Certainly, not nearly old enough to survive on his own.

He stayed all evening nearest his Mother’s side. And, even when rescued – oh, how he cried. At times, his cries were unbearable. It was enough to break even the strongest of hearts.

My father fashioned him a pen in the garage across the way. But, every night like clockwork Rocky would find his way back to me. He even learned to negotiate the front door latch, and was quite fond of sitting with my mother as she chatted on the phone.

Our hopes were that Rocky might one day be released back into the wild.And, so each day we trained him – teaching how to forage and fish, and sharing with him every single inch of our ‘hundred acre’ woods.

I was sad when I thought Rocky had run away. Even though we had been planning for his return to nature, I still wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye. He had become such a welcomed part of my day, and we had become such an odd pairing.

I’m reminded as it was this time of year – October, just before the frost settled in. It had been nearly a week when Rocky finally returned home.

I was sitting alone on stone steps, when I heard that familiar cry. His leg had been horribly mangled in a hunter’s trap. I can’t imagine the pain he must have endured simply to find his way home once again.

And, just as soon as he saw me there – he pulled himself into my lap and ‘wept’. It was the first time I remember ever feeling that sense that we are all here in the service of others.

This photo was snapped on the way to the animal clinic.

You see, my loves ~ when we find ourselves in service of others, there is always something wonderful returned.