The Heart Specialist; Claire Holden Rothman
January 1882, St. Andrews East, Quebec.
" All morning I had been waiting for death, even though when I finally came the change was so incremental I nearly missed it. I had laid the squirrel out on a crate and covered it with a rag to keep it from freezing. Blood no longer flowed from the wound on its head, although it still looked red and angry. A dog or some other animal must have clamped its jaws around the skull, but somehow it had managed to escape, dragging itself through the snow to Grandmother's property, where I had discovered it that morning near the barn door. It had been breathing then, the body still trembling and warm. "
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