May 03, 2014

A Hedgehog Named Harry

A few months ago, on the way home from the supermarket, we saw a tiny hedgehog between the bushes. I asked Antonio to take it home, but we didn't have something to use to hold it in our hands, so we let it stay there instead.

Days went by. On one fine afternoon when Antonio was picking me up from work, he told me saw a dead hedgehog on the side of the road. We looked at that hedgehog. It was just a few steps away from the bushes we saw that night, when we saw a hedgehog. 

The dead hedgehog looked like the one we saw before. At least it had the same size. And when I saw its dead body, I thought I should have taken it home. Maybe, just maybe, if we had taken it home, it would have been alive. It wouldn't have been hit by a car. It would have had a chance to live.

And today, on the way home from Fuengirola, Antonio saw another tiny hedgehog! I quickly said, "Go and get it!" Luckily, we had a thing to get the hedgehog without hurting our hands, so we decided to take it home. While walking home, I said, "I'm going to call you Harry." 

Welcome to the family, Harry.

Update May 4, 2014:

It is right what people say. When you love something, you set it free. We decide to set Harry free because we know it's the best for him. He is meant to live in nature, not in a cage, so we put him back in the golf field (through the hole in the fence) near our apartment. We hope to see him again one day, though.

So long, Harry. We will miss you.

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