Baby deer

When I was fourteen, I was designated the responsibility of caring for a rescued newborn deer. A hunter had killed its mom and left it there to die. The deer was weak, dehydrated and hungry — on the brink between life and death.

I named her “Lita.” In the beginning, she could barely bear her own weight. Each day I’d feed her with a little nursing bottle and play with her so she wouldn't feel lonely. Day by day, she was growing stronger. After three weeks she was able to walk and eat by herself, making my job much easier. She was cute and gentle — she always followed me at home and asked me for caress,touching my hand with her head.

I started getting tired of taking care of her because it required so much time, but I couldn't go out and leave her alone. She was my responsibility. However, after one month I got bored and started to spend my time reading or playing on the computer. To be honest, I didn't want to keep looking after her. My routine was monotonous: putting milk in her plate, petting her and cleaning up her mess.

She grew stronger and I stopped being so cautious. One day, I forgot to check if her milk was still good in the afternoon. It had spoiled, and she died that same night. This happened because I wasn't doing the best I could. No one blamed me, but I knew I could’ve saved her. A little lapse of my attention cost Lita her life. I was sad, but learned an important lesson: the difference between success and failure lies in the details. Some times, it is not you that suffers by your errors, but the ones next to you, and this is what I won't ever allow to happen again. When I make other mistakes in the future, it won't be because of lack of effort. Since then, I have always and I will always try to do my best.