Weaseling out of relationships

During my writing career, I’ve had several stories tug at my heartstrings. I’ve covered news stories about happy times and sad times. I’ve written on deaths, senseless killings, mayhem, destruction, joys of accomplishment, personal and professional achievements and much, much more.

Writing some articles made me cry, and others made me laugh.

After 25 years of writing, I pretty much know how I’m going to react to certain stories, but I wasn’t prepared for how upset I got when I learned our wolverine had died face-first in a ditch. 

I’ve read articles over the years about her, and written a few myself. I never had the opportunity to see her in person – and I’m not exactly sure I really would have wanted to.

But I followed her progress year by year . . . delighting in photographs that were sent me, and the latest news on her.

Tears welled in my eyes as I instant messaged my friend Franny about our wolverine’s passing.

Franny was supportive of my dismay, but not very sympathetic when I lamented our wolverine was dead, how upset the news made me, and how bad I felt about it.

Franny countered that I shouldn’t take it so hard. After all “she was just a mean ol’ weasel.”

“But she was our mean weasel,” I lamented.

After years of watching her progress, and studying the photos of her, I had an attachment to her.

“She died alone. Hundreds of miles from family of other wolverines,” I instant messaged. “She died alone, unloved, unwanted. She died without companionship for several years.” (I get to use a some of my creative writing skills in instant messages.)

“Shezzz,” Franny replied.

The computer screen’s cursor blinked for a while… I blinked back the threat of tears.

Then passed a couple of moments of silence with no messages sent. I was about to sign off when Franny wrote back.

“The wolverine probably came down here just to get away from a man. She liked solitude, like you do.”

Now, that was something I could relate to! It may be crass in some people’s books, but that was a philosophy I could understand. 

Right or wrong, Franny’s comeback made me laugh. She may have been a just mean ol’ weasel, but she was ours. 

RIP Ms. Weasel.

Mary Drier is a staff writer for the Tuscola County Advertiser. She can be reached at [email protected]

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