Antonella Tomaselli - A handful of happiness : how a prickly creature softened a prickly heart

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Mother and Fatheryes, I first want to thank them both. For all the love and help theyve always given me. I know theyre constantly worried about me, and Im sorry about that. Theyre concerned about my health, because I spend all my time and energy on my hedgehogs, neglecting sleep and food. Well, theyre not entirely wrong; I know I can be extreme, but this is the path Ive chosen and that satisfies my spirit. If my body suffers a little, so be it. Franchina and Mario, Im telling you here: Dont get too worked up

A special thanks to my cousin Francesco, who constantly helps with my hedgehogs and who is a guardian angel to my Franchina.

I want to thank Remigio Luciano, who helped me to start the La Ninna Hedgehog Rescue Center, a division of the Cuneo Wild Animal Rescue Center, which he founded. I also thank him for his help and ongoing support. For more information on his rescue center, go to: www.centrorecuperoselvatici.it.

I thank Dorthe Madsen for her precious advice. She is my living encyclopedia on hedgehogs and their world! We have a strong friendship, bound by a great love for naturehedgehogs includedand a deep mutual affection. Dorthe directs the Pindsvinenes Hb Recovery Center in Tranbjerg, Denmark.

Thanks to Giulia Paracchini and Grard Mangiagalli. Under Giulias precise guidance, I was able to get started. She was essential! And I have always turned to Grard for the more complicated cases that come to the center. Grard is a member of, and Giulia is vice president of, Milano Natura, an association that has been working to help hedgehogs and other animals for years. For more information on the association, see: www.milanonatura.it (the site includes rescue assistance for people who find hedgehogs).

Thanks to Susanna and all my dear friends, who all support me in different ways. And among them, particular thanks to Enrico for the captivating photo spread he did on my hedgehogs. And to photographer Bruno Murialdo, who captures emotion with his shots.

Thanks to Andrea Brovida, without whom Id never have met my Ninna!

Another very special thanks to all the wonderful volunteers who take turns helping at the centertheyre beyond indispensable.

And I want to thank Antonella Tomaselli. We met one day, on the same wavelength, and easily became friends. She listened to the story of me and my hedgehogs and, with her magical and subtle pen, turned it into this book.

May 2013. Spring was in full swing, yet it was passing me by. Its sights and scents seemed faded and far away. I was lost.

An urgent need for change was burning inside me. My desire to pursue a new dream hadnt waned. Despite everything. Despite the wounds Id borne and battles Id lost.

I brushed my hair off my forehead, as if to push away those intense thoughts, and opened my closet. Matching colors with meticulous care, I picked out a pair of pants, a light turtleneck, a blazer, shoes, socks. I added a nice watch. Dressed to the nines, I looked in the mirror. Everything was right, down to the last detail. I went into the living room. Greta was there, curled up on the sofa. She looked up from her tablet.

You look nice, she said, pleased.

As she looked at me, her bright expression faded. But your eyes always have a little sadness. Even when you smile, she added, almost whispering.

I let out a little sigh in response.

Ill be back soon, I said and, grabbing the car keys, went out. I drove slowly through traffic, while sensations and reflections alternated and intermingled in my mind. I was dissatisfied with my work and with my life. I felt like I was groping my way through a dark, empty room, with nothing to orient me. I needed something I could get excited about. Something that would give me the desire to live that I was hungry for. Greta pushed me, thinking she was being helpful. But I didnt want to go in the direction she suggested. It was hers, not mine.

I decided to become a veterinarian as soon as I graduated high school. To everyone around me, even me, it seemed like a random choice. But it wasnt. I only realized later that it had deep roots in my childhood. Maybe I was simply born with a desire to help animals. Who knows.

All the same, after years of doing that job, there I was, feeling like something wasnt right anymore. Something was missing. A great absence whose weight I could feel without knowing its name.

Greta had insisted pragmatically: Try doing something different. For example, you could start working with small animals. Dogs, cats. All pets. Youd earn a lot more, you know. And you need to think about retirement. An extra pension. Or life insurance. It was like talking to my father: Do this, do that. But thats not how I was or am. Im the opposite of someone who plans out his life. It wasnt my style. I couldnt see myself closed inside a clinic going back and forth between vaccinations and microchips. I was used to different situations, more extreme ones.

But.

Following her advice, Id started working at two small animal clinics. Just a couple of times a week. I was on my way to one that dayI had to take over for Andrea, the owner, for the weekend. When I got there, after saying hello, he launched into all the instructions. He explained everything there was to do as we exchanged banter about ourselves and work. Before we parted ways, he showed me a box. Inside was a little animal. It was tiny.

Its a baby hedgehog, he said.

I looked at the little creature, curious.

A woman found it in her garden. Its an orphan, Andrea continued. She brought it here because she didnt know what to do with it.

The little thing still had its eyes closed. And pink, hairless skin. The spines were white and soft, a bit disheveled. They started just behind his tiny ears and ran all the way down his back.

It was born two or three days ago. It weighs less than an ounceonly twenty-five grams, Andrea said.

Twenty-five grams is nothing, I remarked.

Yeah. Youll have to feed it several times.

Which milk is the best substitute for its mothers?

I was recommended goats milk. Cows milk doesnt work because it has a very high level of lactose, a sugar that hedgehogs dont tolerate well. Youll have to feed it by syringe, one drop at a time.

How unusual!

I took the hedgehog and set it on the palm of my hand, to observe it more closely. I paused to look at its front paws: Its slender toes made them look like little hands. I was struck by that similarity. But, pushing away the sentimentality that was starting to wash over me, I suggested to Andrea, smiling, Lets take some pictures of him and put them on Facebook.

We took a number of selfies with our smartphones. Me, him, and the baby hedgehog. Me and the hedgehog. Him and the hedgehog. We chose the best ones to post. We said good-bye. And I went back home, where Greta was waiting for me.

The next morning, I got ready with my usual care. I put on a pair of jeans and a blue linen button-down. I went through my jackets and chose one that was casual yet impeccably cut. Light tan color. Paired it with loafers. I checked myself thoroughly in the mirror. My physical appearance was important to me. I was aware of having a certain appeal, and I cultivated it.

As arranged, I went to Andreas clinic. I wanted to see to the hedgehog again. That odd little creature had gotten to me the day before. I opened the door and stood there, frozen. It was whimpering. A soft, small whimper. Like a chick. A baby bird. A constant, tiny wail broken up by brief pauses. It went straight to the heart. It stung. It hurt. A tear-shaped sound, faint yet shrill.