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.
My grandmother faked being deaf to see how we would act before splitting the inheritance — in the end, everyone received what they deserved
I nodded eagerly, ignoring the eye rolls from my uncle across the room. He never understood why I bothered with the “old lady”.
“You’re wasting your summer, Em,” my Uncle Bill muttered. “Why don’t you come to the beach with us instead?”
I shot him a glare. “Because I actually care about my Grandma, Uncle Bill. You should try it sometime.”
As Grandma and I pruned the roses together, I couldn’t help but notice how her hands shook slightly. She was getting older, and it scared me.
“Grandma,” I gently said. “You know I love you, right?”
She paused, looking at me with those kind eyes. “Of course, sweetheart. And I love you too. More than you could ever know.”
As we headed inside, I hugged her tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and home-baked cookies clinging to her dress. Little did I know, this moment of peace was the calm before the storm.
“Emily,” Grandma said, her voice suddenly serious. “Promise me something. No matter what happens, always stay true to yourself.”
I pulled back, confused. “Of course, Grandma. But why are you saying this?”
She just smiled, that familiar twinkle in her eye. “You’ll understand someday, my dear. Now, how about we bake some cookies?”
A week before Grandma’s 89th birthday, everything changed. Dad came home, his face ashen.
“Emily,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Grandma’s in the hospital. The doctors… they said she’s lost her hearing.”
My world shattered. How could this happen? Just yesterday, we were laughing over her childhood stories.
“But… but she was fine!” I protested, tears welling up in my eyes. “We were gardening and baking and…”
Dad pulled me into a hug. “I know, sweetheart. It happened suddenly. The doctors said it’s not uncommon at her age.”
Despite the diagnosis, we decided to throw Grandma a birthday party anyway. She deserved it, deaf or not.
“We’ll make it special,” Mom said, her voice brimming with love and determination. “Emily, why don’t you make a photo album? I’m sure Grandma would love that.”
I smiled, wiping away my tears as I helped Mom set the table for dinner. “Yeah, I’ll do that. She always loved looking at old pictures.”
Fast forward to Grandma’s 89th birthday celebration, the party was in full swing, but something felt off. I sat next to Grandma, showing her pictures on my phone, when I overheard my Uncle Bill’s booming voice.
“If the house doesn’t get to us, I’m gonna fight for it in court. Don’t you understand that she’s already old and stupid?” he hissed, looking unkindly at Grandma.
I froze, my blood running cold. How could he say that about Grandma?
Aunt Sarah chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain. “Oh yeah, brother! Her words can’t be trusted. I can’t really wait to get that lovely farmhouse she owns in Boston.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. These were the same people who’d smiled and hugged Grandma just moments ago.
“Hey!” I shouted, my face burning with anger. “How can you talk about Grandma like that?”
Uncle Bill sneered at me. “Zip it up, you silly little girl. This is grown-up talk.”
I looked at Grandma, expecting to see hurt in her eyes. But instead, I saw… a glimmer of something else. Was it… amusement?
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. The poor thing couldn’t hear them, and in a way, I was glad. Their cruel words would have broken her heart.
“You okay, Grandma?” I asked, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t hear me.
She patted my hand and smiled.
Later that night, after everyone had gone home, I found Grandma sitting in her favorite armchair, staring out the window.
“Grandma?” I said softly, approaching her.
To my surprise, she turned to look at me. “Emily, dear. Come sit with me.”
I froze. “Grandma? You… you can hear me?”
She chuckled, that familiar twinkle in her eye. “Sweetie, I know everything. Who said I was completely deaf? I can hear faintly.”
My jaw dropped. “But… but at the party… Uncle Bill and Aunt Sarah…”
“I know what they said,” she sighed. “And I know they’re all waiting for me to die.”
I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry, Grandma. They’re horrible!”
She wiped my tears away. “Don’t cry, my dear. We’re going to teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.”
Over the next few days, Grandma and I plotted our plan. I bought some small recorders, and we set about capturing the true nature of our relatives.
“Remember, Emily,” Grandma said as we worked. “This isn’t about revenge. It’s about revealing the truth.”
I nodded, though part of me couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction at the thought of exposing their true colors.
As we captured more and more of my aunts’ and uncles’ cruel words, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Their voices, dripping with greed and mockery, filled the tiny recorders:
“I can’t wait for the old bat to kick the bucket already.”
“Maybe we should help her along, you know? It’s for her own good.”
“God, why won’t she just die already? I’ve got plans for that beach house.”
Each word was like a knife twisting in my gut.
I looked at Grandma, her weathered hands trembling slightly as she listened. Her eyes, once so bright and full of life, now glistened with unshed tears.
“How can they be so heartless?” I whispered. “Grandma, these are your children. How can they say such awful things?”
Grandma reached out and squeezed my hand, her touch as gentle as ever. “Oh, my sweet Emily,” she murmured, her voice quavering. “Sometimes, the people who should love us the most are the ones who hurt us the deepest.”
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. How could they do this to the woman who had loved them, raised them, and given them everything? Now they were circling like vultures, eagerly awaiting her death.
“Doesn’t it hurt you, Grandma?” I asked her.
She smiled sadly. “Of course it does, dear. But it also shows me who truly cares. And that’s worth more than any wealth. Remember… love is the greatest inheritance.”
A week later, Grandma passed away peacefully in her sleep. I was devastated. The funeral was a somber affair, with relatives shedding crocodile tears while eyeing Grandma’s possessions.
“Such a tragedy,” Aunt Sarah sniffled, her eyes darting around the room. “I’ll miss her so much.”
I bit my tongue, knowing what was coming.
Three days after the funeral, we all gathered at the lawyer’s office for the reading of the will.
Mr. Thompson, our family lawyer, cleared his throat. “Before we begin, I have a special request from Mrs. Rosalind.”
He placed seven small boxes and envelopes on the table, each labeled with a name. Everyone except me had one.
“Emily,” Mr. Thompson said, “your grandmother left something different for you.”
My heart raced as I watched my relatives tear into their boxes. Each one contained a small recorder.
Uncle Bill pressed play first. His own voice filled the room: “I can’t wait for the old bat to kick the bucket already.”
Aunt Sarah’s recorder was next: “God, why won’t she just die already? I’ve got plans for that beach house.”
One by one, each recorder played back the nasty things they’d said about Grandma. The color drained from their faces as they realized the truth.
Oh, you petty things! Grandma hadn’t been deaf at all.
“YOU!” Uncle Bill pointed at me, his face red with anger. “You did this!”
I stood my ground. “No, Uncle Bill. You did this to yourself. All of you did.”
As the last recording finished, I couldn’t help but smile. Grandma had outsmarted them all.
“Emily,” Mr. Thompson said, handing me an envelope. “This is for you.”
With shaking hands, I opened it. Inside was a letter in Grandma’s elegant handwriting:
“My dearest Emily,
You were the only one who saw me for who I was, not what I had. Your love was pure and unconditional. That’s why I’m leaving everything to you. Use it wisely, and always remember: love is the greatest inheritance of all.
Love,
Grandma”
Tears streamed down my face as I clutched the letter to my chest. I realized that Grandma had given me something far more valuable than money or property. She’d taught me the true meaning of love and family.
As for my relatives? They each received an envelope containing a single dollar and a note that read: “Hope this would be enough! Good luck!”
The aftermath was chaotic. Uncle Bill threatened to contest the will, but Mr. Thompson shut him down quickly.
“Mrs. Rosalind was of sound mind when she made this will,” he said firmly. “And given the evidence we’ve just heard, I’d say her decisions were well-founded.”
As we left the office, my Dad pulled me aside. “Emily, I’m so proud of you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see what was happening sooner.”
I hugged him tight. “It’s okay, Dad. Grandma knew you loved her. That’s what matters.”
It’s been ten years since that day, and I still miss my Grandma terribly. But her final lesson stays with me: love your family unconditionally, because nothing in this world is permanent. Not money, not property. Just love.
And remember, sometimes the quietest voices have the most to say. Listen closely… you never know what you might learn.
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