Another one from the archives:
This story actually happened in June 2006 while we were back east for my sister-in-law's wedding, but The Engineer encouraged me to commit it "pen and paper" so that it would not be forgotten.
The kids and I spent several weeks with their grandparents before, during, and after said wedding, the first of hopefully many such visits between the generations. A few days after our arrival, I was sitting in the sun room, drinking my tea and gazing outside at Mom and Dad's gorgeous backyard when I spied some rabbits heading towards Mom's flowers. This in itself isn't that unusual since Mom and Dad live in a suburban area near a major city that
is almost but not quite rural, but this time there quite a few bunnies. Naturally, the kids were ecstatic. And, naturally, Mom was not as these dreaded rabbitos love to munch on her flowers. After the kids had oohed and awed them for a bit, we summarily chased them away from the yard.
A few minutes later, Dad noticed not one but two squirrels. Again, not unusual, but this time they had managed to actually climb up the bird feeders and were quite content to consume and spill most of the contents of said feeders. Dad sprung out of his chair like a spring and chased those varmints out of there pronto!
After he came back inside, Dad told me that days before our arrival, while he had been doing lawn work, he came across a mama duck and her nest of 12 eggs hiding in a bush 
in the front yard. He quickly left the bush so as not to disturb her. Our first day there he showed the kids the mama and nest, and they dutifully admired her from a distance. On this particular day, Dad and the kids went to check on mama duck's progress, and lo and behold! Mama duck now had 10 babies! The kids squealed and clapped, but again kept their respectful distance. Naturally, they bounded indoors to tell me and their grandmother, and, naturally, Mom and I HAD to go check this out.
A few hours later, we had to set off on wedding errands. Mom was taking the kids to shop for party favor stuff, while Dad and I were heading downtown to practice with the church organist (I was the soloist in the wedding). Walking to the garage and following closely behind, I looked up at my MIL just as she turned to me with a look of bewilderment on her face. She fiercely whispered my name, and motioned to something in the garage. I froze in my tracks, fearful that she had spied a snake.
Urgently she whispered my name again and gesticulated wildly. Summoning courage from deep within, I walked slowly to the door and looked in the direction to which she was pointing. There, huddled in the corner, shivering and panting, was a young fawn. I looked over at my kids who were enraptured.
Quickly I walked back into the kitchen and summoned my FIL, urging him to come quickly. Dad took one look at the fawn, declared it a newborn, and went back into the kitchen to call the Fish and Game department. While I listened to him get the runaround on the phone, I told Mom and the kids to get in the car and get going while I kept an eye on our guest. Slowly Mom backed her car out of the garage while our spotted friend stayed shivering in the corner.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, I hear my FIL on the phone: "Ah yes, I have a baby deer in my garage....[silence].....No, I did NOT put it there...[sigh, pause]...Yes, I would like it to leave."
After several similar conversations with various departments of the Humane Society, the ASPCA, and the Fish and Game Division, Dad came back out to tell me the results. I had turned to him to listen to him, and when I looked back in the garage, the fawn had decided to leave the corner and lie down AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STEPS OUTSIDE THE KITCHEN DOOR.
Great -- NOW what do we do? We had to get to the church, and time was not on our side at this point. Fish and Game told Dad that the best way to get rid of the fawn was to chase it out and back into the woods where its mother would find it. Huh. Okay. As he's telling me this, our little guest decided that he would leave on his own rather than be evicted; he jumped up and scurried out to the yard.
Dad ran off after it, but it was quickly around the side of the house and into the wooded area behind the house.
Dad and I looked at each other, laughed, and then, shrugging our shoulders, got into his car and left to go downtown.
On the thirty minute drive into town, Dad and I kept discussing and laughing about our visitor, when I decided to gaze out at the passing scenery. Just then, I spied someone's pet grazing on the lawn of their expansive property. I started to snicker, and Dad wanted to know what was so funny. "Oh, just that pot-bellied pig over there, on a leash, eating that grass."
Huh? Okay, whatever.
We made it to the church, avoiding baseball game traffic, and my practice with the organist was uneventful. We managed to avoid rush hour traffic leaving the city and returning to the 'burbs (I don't know how we managed that), and were just pulling off the interstate at our exit when we noticed traffic piled up for about a half mile.
"Must be an accident," I said. I craned my neck, spotted a tow truck's flashing lights, and said, "Yup. It's a wrecker truck. We're moving, but very slowly."
We waited a few minutes, and then the cars in our lane started to move forward slowly. As we made the turn by the mall, we noticed traffic stopped in the opposite direction. "What's going on?" Dad asked me.
I looked over, and almost spewed the mouthful of water I had just ingested. "Oh. You. Are. NOT. Going. To. Believe. THIS." I said deliberately.
Dad looked over at the road, and the two of us started laughing hysterically. There, in the middle of the lane of oncoming traffic, was a gaggle of Canada geese, chatting away to each other, oblivious to all around them, and taking their sweet little time getting to the other side of the road.
We crept by, both of us lamenting the fact that we didn't have our cameras with us. We were still laughing about it five minutes later when we drove down their street and approached the driveway. Spotting Mom's car in the garage, Dad remarked that she and the kids must have finished their errands quickly, and that he couldn't wait to tell them the story of the geese.
Just then, I noticed a small shadow under one of the tires of Mom's car.
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. "Dad, look!"
I pointed, and there under the tire was a chipmunk!
Dad and I just looked at each other, wide-eyed. We walked silently into the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of wine, and poured us each a glass. I guess he figured we both deserved it.
(Postscript: I forgot to mention this part -- after dinner, all five of us decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. Who do you think we met in our travels? Yup -- mama duck and her ten babies! She was coming back to the nest, quacking in full-voice at us to get the heckoutta her way! The next morning, we noticed she had abandoned her nest, probably taking up residence at the small pond at the local park.
Oh, and to answer your question, the chipmunk was not squished; he was hiding under the tire. He ran off before Dad pulled his van into the garage, so you can stop your sniveling.
To my fellow US readers, Happy 4th of July!
