My New Muse

Shortly after I decided to rewrite the story of my father, this groundhog took up residence on our property.
The reason this is significant is that I grew up knowing that my father had a groundhog as a pet when he was a teenager. It's one of those family stories that has its own, inexplicable significant - making groundhogs rather mystical to me, I'm afraid!
So this fella showed up and burrowed under the garage. He wanders around the yard eating stuff growing in the lawn and for some reason, he likes to sit on the laundry deck. Surveying his kingdom, perhaps.
Basically, this groundhog has become my muse for the rewriting of this memoir, which I began last Friday and I have to tell you:

IT'S BLOODY HARD.
Honestly, I'm not even sure I can do it. For all six previous versions, I knew the story and I wrote it. I knew how it started and how it ended, and that was that. But now, this new version is completely different. It's focus is different, and there's a THEME to be followed. This different focus, and this theme are essential, they are what I've been told the story needs, but right now, I feel like everything is pinging around in my brain and I'm having a hard time grabbing what I need and anchoring it to the page.
Egads. It's bloody hard work already. I feel like I can't do it but some part of me is wondering if that's the secret this time: not knowing the story and letting it unfold as I go.

I wish I could ask my muse, but he seems to have scarped off to the field. I didn't think muses would be allowed field trips.