It was early June when a tiny raccoon — barely the size of a loaf of bread — was found all alone by the side of a quiet country road. His fur was still patchy, his movements clumsy, and his cries barely more than whispers in the wind. No mother came back for him. No siblings stirred nearby. He was utterly alone.

Wildlife rescuer Nikki Robinson had seen cases like this before — too many of them. Every summer, she said, calls flood in about orphaned wildlife, and every year, there are more animals than there are rescuers to help them. “When you ask what you should do with an orphaned raccoon, people often say, ‘Leave it alone and let nature take its course,’ or ‘Take it to a vet, and they’ll have to euthanize it,’” Robinson told

The Dodo.
Her voice still breaks when she remembers that moment. “That broke my heart. I couldn’t let that happen.”

But Nikki worked full-time and couldn’t provide the constant care a newborn raccoon required — five bottle feedings a day, warmth, stimulation, attention. She turned to the one person she knew could help: her mother,

Linda, a gentle soul with a soft heart and a semi-retired schedule.
“At first, my mom was reluctant,” Nikki said with a laugh. “I’d already made it clear that grandchildren weren’t on the horizon, so she joked that I was giving her a fur grandbaby instead.”

The moment Linda fed the baby for the first time, something shifted. “The first time she bottle-fed him and he looked up at her, she just kind of melted,” Nikki said. “He was so small, so trusting. She treated him very sweetly, and they bonded right away.”

They named him Little Hands — for his tiny, grasping paws that reached out for the bottle, for comfort, for love.

Day after day, Linda fed and cleaned and comforted the baby raccoon. She talked softly to him through every feeding, stroked his fur, and let him curl up in her lap. She knew, even as she bonded with him, that one day he would have to go back to the wild. “But she still gave him love,” Nikki said. “Because that’s what he needed to survive.”

By the end of summer, Little Hands had grown strong and curious. His fur had thickened, his eyes sparkled with mischief, and his natural instincts were beginning to bloom. It was time to go.

The family followed what’s known as a soft release — allowing him to live freely on the property while still having access to food and shelter. For a while, he lived under the deck, venturing out a little farther each day. Linda continued to leave small bowls of food for him, watching him grow more independent — and yet, he never truly left.