Farmers often face challenges from pests like rodents and insects that threaten their crops and spread diseases. In an amusing incident in New Brunswick, Canada, a mouse was found in a cannabis field, appearing “stoned” and passed out on a pile of leaves.
Colin Sullivan spotted the mouse raiding his garden for two consecutive days and shared pictures of the little critter enjoying the leaves before it succumbed. Eventually, the mouse was discovered lying on its back, seemingly unwell.
Sullivan decided to care for the mouse, placing it in a cage to help it recover. After six days, the mouse was healthy enough to return to the wild. Sullivan humorously recounted the experience on Facebook, saying: “I watched this little rascal munch on my plants until he dozed off”. He also noted that the mouse, missing one ear, might have been trying to cope with some stress, prompting him to intervene and provide a safe space for recovery.
Sullivan updated his followers about the mouse’s condition, stating it had a rough time but was gradually getting better, now eating just one leaf a day. “One day at a time”, he advised. When the mouse was finally released from “rehab”, Sullivan celebrated its recovery with a playful post titled “On The Rodent To Redemption”, highlighting the mouse’s journey and the importance of supporting those in recovery.
His posts garnered massive attention, with the first receiving over 461,000 shares and the follow-up accumulating more than 6,400 shares and 1,500 comments filled with jokes and encouragement. Commenters expressed their delight in the mouse’s recovery, with one suggesting that it might have experienced a wild adventure, while another thanked Sullivan for caring for the little creature.
Sullivan, who has personal experience with substance detox, dedicated a heartfelt message to his wife, Robyn, crediting her support for his long-term sobriety. Many people who initially came for the story of the mouse found themselves inspired by Sullivan’s message of hope and recovery. Cannabis became legal in Canada in 2018, with each province, including New Brunswick, establishing its own regulations.
The New Brunswick government emphasizes creating a responsible culture around cannabis use, educating the public on health implications, and reaping the economic benefits of the industry. In this province, individuals must be 19 or older to consume cannabis, and possession is limited to 30 grams. Public consumption is prohibited, and landlords can restrict tenants from smoking or growing cannabis, although they cannot prohibit cannabis use if tobacco smoking is allowed. It’s essential for New Brunswick residents to understand the risks of cannabis use to make informed decisions.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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