Nurture overdrive: of cats and rabbits

I have all floors of my house covered, if you include the bats in the attic.

Penny the foster bunny is the upstairs rabbit. My cat, Safia and my two permanent bunnies Wilbur and Tita are on the main floor, and I am watching over a stray cat in the basement, named Fluffy for now, until I bring her to the vet in a couple of days.

Can you say nurture compensation?

Henry would have been born later this month. I probably would have lost my bunny, Sweetie anyway, and likely would not have gotten a replacement bunny with childbirth lurking around the corner. I have gone into full self-pet therapy mode. Particularly with Penny the foster and Fluffy the stray.

There’s no complaints from my step-son, but poor Tyler… he never really wanted pets, and he’s a dog person… oh well!

Image courtesy of https://writerightmel.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/bunny.jpg?w=300

Image courtesy of https://writerightmel.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/magnets-you-say-crazy-cat-lady-like-it-s-a-bad.jpg?w=250

 

Making decisions in grief

It’s really, really hard to make decisions these days. Things kind of just have to be thrown at me and I’ll either duck out of the way, or get hit by them and incorporate whatever it is into my day. Most of the time I’d rather duck, but don’t often have the energy for it.

This is quite a bit change from the person I used to be. I was more of a direct-make decisions, no fuss kind of lady. Maybe I still am, I don’t know. I’ve been hit with a Fort McMurray-sized truck of loss, and you don’t come out of the grief-machine the same.

But I am making one decision in my cloud of grief. I know Sweetie, my beloved deceased bunny, cannot be replaced. She was a very special pet, and having her suddenly ripped from my life is really very painful.

My sweet, good girl. Rest in peace.

 

Since losing Henry, she had been one of my main sources of comfort. Watching her eat made me smile, and she was very good at snuggling. We would spend hours sometimes snuggling in my bed or on the sofa.

She also made me laugh when she would weave between our legs, honk, and follow us like a dog, demanding to be pet. She would also flop on the ground and go really flat – a sign that she was happy and comfortable. A light went out when she left, and I’ve been so angry and sad at the circumstances of her death, even though the vets did everything they could to resuscitate her. I think she died of fear, and that tears me up.

One thing is for sure – getting a new bunny that is real and already sterilized is a much quicker fix than waiting to hear from geneticists that our chances of making another baby with osteogenesis imperfecta type 2 are high or low. So I’m going for the quick fix.

In all of this, I haven’t turned to substance abuse to cope with my grief, which I find a bit amazing. Not that I would have turned to hard drugs in the first place, having never done them or had the desire to go down that path. Maybe I’m watching too much Internet TV these days to think of that as a logical progression from multiple losses. My point is, I’m going to get another bunny. Hopefully one that snuggles. I still have Wilbur – my feisty miniature grey rex rabbit, but he’s a biter, not a cuddler. Neither is my cat.

Silly wonderful Wilbur.

I’m finding so little comfort in my life these days. I’m still humbly thankful for all the love and support that friends and family are giving us – I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but at the end of the day, it’s me sitting with me and my torn lump of a heart that continues to beat for some reason.  The tools to recover, if I ever get there, are within me, and what I feel will give me some ounce of comfort is a bunny from the SPCA. So that’s one decision I’ve made.