June 17, 1993~Took a walk with Michael in the stroller. Found a freshly dead chipmunk in good shape and showed Michael. He loved this dear thing. Cuddled it under his chin and laid it down and patted it, singing, "All night, All night." He touched his nose to its slightly bloody one and put it in his toy bus and gave it a ride. Because I was becoming increasingly uneasy about chipmunk rabies, I finally underhandedly discarded the poor thing into Mary Ann's bushes. He cried, looking for it and I waited anxiously to make sure Michael didn't start foaming at the mouth or biting more than usual. Several days have passed and I think our chipmunk was a nice, healthy, dead one.
September, '93-2 years old-
Phil shot two doves. Michael fell in love with them, carrying them with him everywhere. I discovered him halfway up the stairs with them in tow. He was taking them to bed with him. I convinced him to lay them on an egg carton and cover them with a paper towel. He said, "Nighty-night" to them. I put them out on the porch after he had fallen asleep.
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