In Memory of Cadbury: A TMI Packed Tribute
This morning I had to take one of our pet rabbits (one of three) to be euthanized. Cadbury was no doubt the bitchiest of all of our bunnies, but we went through a lot together, so I was smitten with the old bat despite her faults (e.g. grunting and trying to smack the shit out of you when you feed her food).
A little over two weeks ago, Pete and I noticed Cadbury wasn’t eating as much food as usual. I took her to the vet and after a few xrays, they told me she had gastrointestinal status, which is the worst news for a bunny owner. This is definitely TMI, but basically it slows down intestinal movement until the critter can’t eat or drink anymore since everything is lodged up with…well, poop.
She went from five pounds to under three pounds during this time, so the hardest part was having to syringe-feed her food, water, and antibiotics every 12 hours in an attempt to treat her back to health. Pete was a huge help when we were told to try needle injections (ack) to help get things moving again.
At this point you must think I’m totally a crazy pet fanatic. Watching her turn pale this morning (it still astounds me that bunnies can turn pale) was all I needed this morning to take her to the vet to make sure she wasn’t suffering during her final hours. Although it was awkward when the nurse at the vet had her pre-teen daughter with her for “Take Your Daughter to Work Day” (which was totally yesterday!). Trying not to turn into a blubbery mess in front of an 11-year-old when the vet is starting to cry-talk while talking about the process of euthanasia is not an easy feat. I totally blubbered three tissues worth of tears, but I assured the pre-teen girl that I would not ugly cry in front of her.
In less morose ramblings, we wouldn’t have our bunny Applesauce without Cadbury. When I adopted Cadbury from the PSPCA, the shelter told me she was a male rabbit. I didn’t see any male bits, so I took her to a vet (that apparently wasn’t well-versed in exotic pet knowledge), and they confirmed that she was male. I questioned her manhood a bit during that car ride home, but I figured vets are paid to be smarter than me.
A few weeks later, I woke up in the early hours to the sight of five moving turds on my kitchen floor. Or what I thought were Betty White poops (lord knows she was always pooping inside then since I had recently adopted her from the shelter). Turns out they were baby bunnies, which confirmed that my intuition was correct. Cadbury did, in fact, have a vagina.
Unfortunately she was the worst. mom. ever. and tried to kill the babies, which is also not uncommon for traumatized rabbits that have been bunny-raped at the shelter. She quickly succeeded in injuring one of the five, and the little guy/girl ended up passing away soon after. I was at work during this time and didn’t realize rabbits could become aggressive with their kits due to nerves, so when I came home I put the four remaining babies in their own box and nursed them individually with her from then on. It was an incredibly stressful situation, and my new vet was telling me not to expect the kit to survive since I was handling them so much (not recommended). Luckily, all four grew up to be completely adorable little fluff balls and I ended up keeping the runt of the litter (Applesauce) and finding the rest of them homes.
Cadbury had a lot of health issues over the past year and successfully defeated the onset of head tilt (don’t Google that, I repeat, do not Google that) since she was a pro at taking injectable antibiotics. She also had this neurological thing where her eye wouldn’t close for like a week, but she survived that as well, which is why I thought this would just be another medical condition to add to her growing list.
Alas, it was not, but she lived to be at least 7-years-old (I don’t know how old she was when I adopted her) and she had an enjoyable life filled with lots of veggie treats and hump-filled evenings with her stuffed candy corn toy. I’ll miss you Cadbury, you were the sweetest, most bitchiest bunny ever.
One of my favorite holiday memories is drawing white crayon designs on eggs and dyeing them as obnoxiously bright as possible. Pete and I still keep the tradition alive, taking turns using the bendy wire egg holder to decorate a half dozen each.
This Easter was a special one for me, since my parents and Grandma (and their dog Whiskey) decided to visit us from Delaware. My family is big on surprises, so when my parents asked if they thought my brother (Ken) and his wife (Stacey) could also visit from NYC, I said they were busy that weekend (lies!). Ken and I knew we wanted to surprise them with their visit, so we planned a big scheme upon our parents’ arrival.
We hid 50 plastic eggs all around the house in preparation of their visit. The plan was for us to welcome my parents and Grandma inside, while Ken and Stacey hid upstairs. Pete and I planned to distract my parents with an outdoor Easter egg hunt, while Ken and Stacey would sneak back downstairs to hide in the sunroom. This plan also involved them wrapping pink lights around each other, to make it extra festive. Because Ken just happens to own pink Easter lights.
Little did Ken realize that they didn’t have to rush, since Pete and I led my parents on a search for plastic eggs outside for a good 10 minutes. When my parents finally opened the front door to search for more eggs inside, they were completely shocked and turned into blubbery messes. It was awesome.
Of course it wouldn’t be Easter without my dad insting on having an Easter egg hunt of his own, so he had all of us kids search for metallic, money-filled eggs in the backyard. Stacey was a total champ and knew all of the typical hiding spots, like under the grill cover.
Ken decided to take it upon himself to climb the tree and do his best impression of a demented Easter bunny. Yet another shining example of how I just might be the normal one in my family.
Lets pretend like this family photo isn’t totally awful (it was taken under our green patio umbrella, so everyone looks slightly seasick, and by everyone I mean me).
There were an abundance of unfortunate bunny face photos taken that day, all of which will hopefully be framed at my parents’ house in the near future.
In non-bunny news, our foster dog Donald Sutherland has been happy in his new home for a couple of weeks now. I’ll admit, I miss the little wart-butt a ton. He’s been visiting fellow seniors like himself during the day since his new mom is an activities director in a nursing home.
I’m going to attempt to be a bit more timely about my upcoming posts, since this one was uber belated. I’ve just been swamped between work, weekend shoots, wedding planning, yard work and nursing a very sick bunny. What’s new with you guys?
