I'm using my broken laptop again. Trying to see what I write, through the fractured prism of my broken screen. One of these days I'll force myself to spend the five hundred dollars to repair it, hopefully before Burning Man.
We're in Carmel By the Sea. Beau, my little eleven year old son, is sleeping soundly beside me. I have some stupid court show on the TV. The view from our room is beautiful. I can see the sea in the near distance, beyond the tops of the Cypress trees.
Our string of animal tragedy continues. I guess the reason our pet problems seem so much worse that everyone else's, in terms of the frequency of them, is because we have so many more animals than the average pet having person does.
Our wildly energetic, rescued pit bull, Puppy, led our black standard poodle, Spirit, on a cruel raid of our bunny hutches in the patio, and grabbed our sweet, little, black bunny, and broke his back in three places. We had to put him to sleep.
I'm so sad and of course feel so guilty and torn up over it. I'm also really pissed that Noemi and Esther, my assistant/housekeepers, didn't think to lock the dogs in the side yard, when they had already caught them breaking in to the bunny area once.
Since I knew Puppy and Spirit had been able to jump the wall between the back yard and my side patio, where the bunnies live, I hired a fence contractor to come and resolve everything for us, so that all of our various animals would be safe from each other.
We added a high picket fence on top of the existing concrete wall, making the barrier between the yard and patio, at least six and a half feet high, maybe higher. Everyone was certain the dogs couldn't jump it, but I ignored that tiny, guiding voice inside that told me it wasn't high enough. We had planned to make the fence higher, but didn't want to have to cut off a main limb of the peach tree, and settled for a lower height.
We also built a high fence in the driveway, closing off the dog run from the trash cans and kitchen door, and a very tall green wire fence around the back cat house, in order to give an added degree of safety there.
The day after we left for vacation, Noemi was home, supposedly looking after things, and the dogs somehow managed to defeat the fence. I'm not certain how yet, whether they jumped it or bashed it down. Noemi heard them trying to get at, and open our bunny hutch, so she put the dogs in the back yard. She didn't put them in the side yard, where they would never have been able to get back at the bunny. And she didn't tell Esther, when she came to relieve her on Friday, what had happened. I'm sure Esther would have put them in the side yard, to protect the bunny until I could come home and figure out what had gone wrong.
In any case, the dogs got in, Puppy broke open the cage and got my black bunny, Spirit was standing by, waiting his turn. Esther heard the noise and ran outside. Puppy ran away with the bunny and Esther chased her. She grabbed Bunny away from Puppy, even though Puppy was growling at her, and trying to get the bunny back. Esther called my Mother's housekeeper and got a ride to the vet hospital and that's when I got paged and found out about everything.
It took me five days to decide to put Bunny to sleep. I was so upset, it was horrible. His back was broken so badly, he would never have regained the use of his back paws. He could barely move, and he would always have needed us to hand feed him, and clean his urine and feces off of him several times a day. He would have been a very helpless baby like bunny. We were only hoping he'd be able to pull himself around a bit by his front paws, but were worried what that would do to his broken spine and all of the nerves.
Remembering all of the people I've seen who have managed to care for paralyzed pets before, and thinking of friends who are confined to wheelchairs and beds, I thought, Well, so what, this is my fault, I'll just have to do this for him, and make his life as wonderful as I can, given these limitations. I was willing to build a cage by my bed, and spend my days and nights caring for this little bunny guy. I felt I owed him this, but everyone was against it.
Finally after days and days of struggling with this, the vet convinced me it was cruel to keep him alive like this. She said she had never seen a rabbit this badly injured survive, she was sure he would be in pain and that the fractures would prove dangerous in time, that he would develop sores and further complications, and that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to keep him clean, so I made the horrible decision to have him killed.
At one point, during all of this, I called home to check on Noemi, to see how everything else was at home, and she told me the vet had called. I told her that I knew, and that I was avoiding her, trying to buy some time to make my decision. (My bunny was in no pain, he was being cared for by excellent technicians and doctors, at at rate of over one hundred dollars a day, in addition to over five hundred dollars worth of accumulated bills for x-rays and medications and other care.) Noemi, chose the wrong time to tell me, "You can't do that, you have to call the doctor, the bunny is suffering." I felt so chastised and shamed by the one person who had no right, I wanted to reach through the phone and throttle her. Instead I curtly told her that I was aware of the situation, that the bunny was not suffering, that I was an adult and would make this decision when I was ready. Then of course afterwards I felt mushy and frightened, worried I hurt her feelings. Then still later I felt angry again and thought she had a lot of nerve telling me what to do for my bunny, when she could have clearly prevented the whole thing.
Now I have a lot of decisions on my hands. Beau says he will never speak to Noemi again, he blames her for the death of the bunny. I can't assess the truth until I get home and talk to eveyone in person, but everything Beau said made so much sense. He said, "Mom she was just too lazy to worry about it, she just put the dogs in the back yard and didn't care anymore. She's lazy and stupid, she bosses me around for no reason, I don't like her,and I'm never going to talk to her again."
I think I should find homes for these dogs, who are too dangerous to have around cats and bunnies and chickens, even though it hurts so much, and feels like such a loss to do. And I think I should somehow find the courage to tell Noemi that it hasn'tbeen working with her since the beginning, that this job is too demanding for her, that we are tired of trying to change ourselves in order to make her feel more comfortable, and that while we are grateful to her for trying, we just can't go on like this any more.
I just hate letting people go. I suck at it, truly I do. I can't let go of friends or lovers. It takes me forever to figure out that a relationship just isn't working any more and that I need to move on. I know that this is a lesson I have to learn, but I continuously doubt my intincts. If I'd listenend to my instinct in the first place, we would ahve had a better, more secure fence and Bunny would be alive. I dont even want to think about how much better my life would have been if I'd listened to my higher self when it was screaming out to me to get out of my abusive, sad, fantasy based marriage to a little boy man Casanova, a pou aire if there ever was one.
Well, if you made it this far, thanks so much for reading. I'll check back in soon and share some of my happier travel stories.
Love you guys,