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| Doctor Pete |
The following story I wrote is reprinted from Fernandina's News-Leader newspaper published May 12, 2017.
Let me tell you about a gray squirrel named Pete. Raised from an infant by Ray and Kay O’Rourke, the veterinarian clarified Pete was a girl. Ray told me, “Well, if Johnny Cash can sing about a boy named Sue, we can call our little girl Pete.” After eleven wonderful years thriving in a loving and safe home, Pete went to Squirrel Heaven, the happy Land-O-Nuts. And so here, I recount just a few of the highlights Ray shared about his best furry friend.
A neighbor found a baby squirrel those eleven years ago and gave it to the O’Rourke family.
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| Pete and Ray |
Every four hours, Mrs. O’Rourke bottle-fed the bitty thing. The vet explained that her spine had not fused in three places. Kept in a tiny box to restrict movement, and encourage healing, after three months, Pete was up and ready to run. Being a Fernandina native like her human parents, by this time, the family had grown quite fond of her and didn’t have the heart to let her fend for herself in the wild. “If we'd have let her go,” Ray said, “she’d have probably only lived a year. In captivity, her life expectancy was nine to fifteen years.”
They got a huge three tiered cage and kept it lined with fresh newspaper. Pete shredded the top layers of newspaper and carried them down to the bottom, to make what her parents thought was a nest. They also discovered she liked to sleep in a pair of rompers, sized 3-months. Heavy dungaree material lasted far longer than cotton, which the squirrel chewed to pieces, in short order. Always thinking of their baby, the O’Rourkes even brought home four pairs of rompers from a trip to Berlin, Germany. With the rompers hanging by their straps from the top of the cage, Pete would put up, as Ray called it, unsalted peanuts in the shell, stashing them in the pockets. Mrs. O’Rourke sewed the legs shut on the romper suit and the squirrel would sleep inside the shorts.
Pete much preferred the small Fernandina acorns versus the larger, fancy acorns, Ray explained. She loved her sweet potatoes, cherry tomatoes and fruits and veggies, too. She ate no meat and drank just water, no beer. They took her out of her cage at least two hours a day for good “quality time.” Fingers gave fine scritchy-scratches, but what Pete really loved was to be massaged with a four-prong massage-thingie. “She would lift her front arm for better access,” Ray remembered with a grin. She was not afraid of dogs and cats and like a cat, Pete never had a bath. No matter, she was a girl of good personal grooming. Oh, she travelled in a camera case with grommet holes.
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| Pete in her Tux |
When it came to fashion, Pete was all over it, and the photos are proof. From doctor to Santa to tuxedoed squirrel-about-town, she was patient and proud to model her different doll costumes. Some clothes were a gift from her Godparents who wore badges reading: I'm Pete's Godmother and I'm Pete's Godfather! In her later years, Pete slept with an oxygen tube in her special box, just to make her life extra comfy.
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| Santa Pete |
Well, Pete is buried in the O’Rourke back yard, in a pair of dungarees beneath an angel stepping stone. If the smile on Ray’s face and the tears in his eyes tell me anything, it is that there is a particular little squirrel with angel wings now watching over her beloved parents here on earth. May we all know such love from and for one of God’s creatures.
-Jane Marie
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