I was upstairs last night when Mr. Dating Jesus hissed up the stairs that I should come down and be quiet.
And there, in the back yard, was a doe and her fawn, picking their way through the pachysandra.
If you’ll remember, I met this pair a few days ago, when the fawn decided to fold up and rest on the road out front. At the time, a nice lady moved the fawn up the hill, and I told my visiting grandbabies that of course the mother reunited with the baby. At the time, I thought I might be lying.
That didn’t bother me in the least, but as it turns out, I wasn’t lying. This was that fawn, though slightly taller and certainly more sure of foot. Isn’t it cool when stories have a happy ending?
Yay! The fawn made it! And I bet the doe did give the fawn a little kiss, just like you said!
I know. I nearly cried.
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