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Thursday, October 22, 2009
Well, after a promising few days my little bunny friend took a turn for the worst last night. I'm so bummed out. He started out so well; he was eating and he even moved around a little in his crate. I even saw him twitch one of his back legs. I knew his survival was a long shot, but I was starting to feel so positive about his prognosis. I'd joined two online forums, one for rabbit owners and one for people with disabled rabbits (you really can find anything on the internet), and the general consensus was he wasn't a wild rabbit but rather an agouti colored domestic rabbit. So I was already starting to ponder names and long-term caging options for the little guy. But in the end it wasn't meant to be. Poor little guy went through so much and he just couldn't go on. At least he spent his last few days safe and loved with a full belly. And he received a proper burial in my backyard, right under my bedroom window. I could have taken him back to the shelter for disposal, but how else would I have learned not to try digging a hole wearing Crocs? Of course the biggest problem is that now I really want a bunny. I've never had a house rabbit before and I really like the looks and personality of the Flemish Giant. Pretty sure a 15-20 pound rabbit can hold its own with Avery and the cats. The boys would probably be scared to death of it given their absolute terror of Amadeus. So now I really need to find a job so I can satisfy my bunny lust. RIP little bunny!
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 For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack. – Rudyard Kipling
"For a long while I have believed...that in every generation there are a few souls, call them lucky or cursed, who are simply born not belonging, who come into the world semi-detached, if you like, without strong affiliation to family or location or nation or race; that there may even be millions, billions of such souls, as many non-belongers as belongers, perhaps; that, in sum, the phenomenon may be as "natural" a manifestation of human nature as its opposite, but one that has been mostly frustrated, throughout human history, by lack of opportunity. And not only by that: for those who value stability, who fear transience, uncertainty, change, have erected powerful system of stigmas and taboos against rootlessness, that disruptive, anti-social force, so that we mostly conform, we pretend to be motivated by loyalties and solidarities we do not really feel, we hide our secret identities beneath the false skins of those identities which bear the belongers' seal of approval. But the truth leaks out in our dreams...: alone in our beds (because we are alone at night, even if we do not sleep by ourselves), we soar, we fly, we flee. And in the waking dreams our societies permit, in our myths, our arts, our songs, we celebrate the non-belongers, the different ones, the outlaws, the freaks. What we forbid ourselves, we pay good money to watch, in a playhouse or movie theatre, or to read about between the secret covers of a book. Our libraries, our palaces of entertainment tell the truth. The tramp, the assassin, the rebel, the thief, the mutant, the outcast, the delinquent, the devil, the sinner, the traveller, the gangster, the runner, the mask: if we did not recognize in them our least-fulfilled needs, we would not invent them over and over again, in every place, in every language, in every time."
– Salman Rushdie
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