Once upon a time there was a son. Memories of when he was born will always remain. Raising a child is not for cowards Early on there are dirty diapers, middle of the night feedings, and times of just crying for unknown reasons. The “terrible twos” arrive as he gets to toddling and gets into everything, exploring his world. Exploring is a good thing. It has been a part of humanity since the beginning.
You raise him up to be independent of you to be able to go out into the world on his own and do great things. This son, in his never ending quest for exploration developed a fascination for weasels. Why, we may never know. First he read all he could on weasels. Found some weasels to observe. Eventually he went out into the wild to find and study weasels. He camped out and lived among them. He began to envy them and finally decided to live out in the wild near the weasel pack. He paid attention to them. They paid attention to him. He thrived on the attention, and in getting to be a part of the pack.
Weasels are pack animals, are carnivores, and often prey on animals much larger than they are. They are tireless predators, often killing more than they can consume. They are ruthless hunters, usually killing with bites to the base of the skull. The Son, immersing himself in “weasel-ology” began himself to think, act and live like a weasel. It seemed like a harmless obsession. Until the attacks came. Oh, they weren’t actually physical attacks. But they were aggressive nonetheless. he began to care more about the weasels than he did his own family. As a matter of fact, it seemed like the weasels WERE his new family. He eventually came to either ignore or attack his original family. The more he attacked, the easier it became. He didn’t attack alone. He had his weasel pack to join in. At first the family excused it, but some grew to call it what it was….evil violence. Eventually, most of his previous family had become prey, to the point that it was as though he didn’t exist any more.
This is a story that may not have a happy ending. Well, many stories in real life do not have a happy ending. it is a story at this point that has not yet been ended. Will a son who has gone off with the weasels ever return home like the prodigal son of the Bible, or forever be lost to the weasels. Maybe he will just live a full and comfortable life with the weasels. Or worse, will the weasels eventually turn on him and kill and devour him. Only time will tell. Only God knows the answer to that. For now, other than praying, I have given him up to the weasels. The prodigal son had to hit bottom in the pigpen before he came to himself. For now this son is a very successful weasel-ologist, earning accolades and the praises of the other weasels. Beware, parents, what your children immerse themselves in. (bad grammar sorry). You may lose them to the weasels.
Lost in the Fog 