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Ice caves
Ocean waves
One in all
All in one
Brr, it’s cold.
so I’ve been told.
February 14, 2008
Ice caves
Ocean waves
One in all
All in one
Brr, it’s cold.
so I’ve been told.
I mentioned in the last post how I had been surprised by my friends in a pet store– allowed to pick out my very own bunny rabbit. There were two beautiful black “lion head” bunnies, affectionately called “lion heads” because of their poufy mane-like fur. The employee at the pet store asked if I wanted to hold on, and placed it in my arms. I immediately feel in love. Its small warm body molded to my arms, and I could feel its little heart beating. The other bunny looked almost identical, although a little larger and its fur seemed to be fuller. To be honest, it looked healthier and more lively. I couldn’t decide which one to get. I asked my friends and they leaned towards the livelier one. Even the employee (when I asked), preferred that one. But for some reason I had already become quite partial to the smaller, almost sicklier one. Maybe I could see myself in it for some reason. But because I am easily influenced, I chose the stronger one. But then after a few minutes of contemplation, my indecisiveness was taking over and something inside of me really wanted the other one, so a switch-a-roo occurred. In the car ride home, I thought once again– maybe I should have picked the other one. But these thoughts faded soon, as I petted the little furry mass in my lap. That night we put the little bunny in the cage we had all ready, complete with a Tiki house made of wood and hay that it could gnaw on, a carrot-shaped feeding bowl, a water bowl and litter box. We watched it for a little while, and then my friend tried to pick it up, but there was some watery poop in its hind end, so she put it back. I immediately thought to the rabbit books and websites I had read before (when I had previously owned a rabbit). Diarrhea in rabbits is very serious, and often fatal if not treated within the first 24 hours. However, I convinced myself that it was fine, possibly a little bit of an upset stomach. It was afterall transitioning to a new home, and naturally would be stressed. And it was still rather lively in its cage.
I awoke the next morning to find the bunny lying in its food bowl. I could see its chest moving up and down. As I got closer to the cage and looked at it, it didn’t move. I found this behavior odd, as normally rabbits are very receptive to sound and movement and perk up. But once again, I thought maybe it was tired from its big adventure. I reached in the cage to pick it up, and it barely resisted me at all. It weakly tried to kick its legs, but that was all. Now I began to realize this behavior was not normal at all. I gently set it down on the padded floor of the cage, and it didn’t move at all. Its heart was still beating and I could see its chest move up and down, but it seemed drained and sickly. I tried to pick it up again to see what was ailing it, but then it squeaked, a terrible mournful squeak that I cannot get out of my head. From my previous readings and experience, I knew that rabbits rarely ever made sounds, especially squeaks, except when in pain or extreme agitation. And I let it alone. I quickly went upstairs to the computer to research something I could do. I found that sometimes baby bunnies developed diarrhea because their gastrointenstianl systems are very delicate. The diarrhea can be fatal without immediate attention and it causes them to be dehyraded. I then found a mixture of water, sugar and salt that was supposed to help. I quickly gathered the ingredients and prepared to feed it to the bunny. I went downstairs, and the bunny still lied there, exactly where I left it. I tried to pick it up again, and its body was limp. I tried to let it drink some of the solution, but it was too late. Its heart had ceased to beat, and I held a dead fuzzy bunny rabbit in my arms.
I was rather sad and hysterical about the whole ordeal, i.e. I was in the middle of a pet store, holding a box with a deceased bunny rabbit inside, hysterically crying. I am lucky my friend was with me, as she explained to the employees what was going on. They probably thought that I was rather crazy, as I had only known and been in the company of this little furry creature for a matter of hours, but it was seeing its furry body limp in the box. And knowing that it must have died a terrible death, in a strange cage, with a giant strange asian girl looking at it, in a strange house, without its mother and siblings.
But I must follow my own mantra of getting over things. I overanalyze and think too much. There are too many what-ifs in the world. And I know this, yet my mind cannot help but drift to them. For now, I must remember what I have previously wrote. “All good things must come to an end (in this case the end came very, very quickly)” and I need to move on. Right now, my friends are planning on getting me a new rabbit. I don’t know if I’m ready now, but we’ll see. I only wish the first attempt had worked out.
Yesterday, quite an extraordinary thing happened.
In honor of my recent birthday, a group of my good friends came to “kidnap” me. Blinded-folded, I was then escorted to the car, where we drove around for a good few minutes. Then the car came to a halt and I was led out– blindfold still on. Not being able to see at first was quite daunting. I was in a world of darkness, walking slowly and cautiously not to run into anything. My hands groped out before me to make sure nothing was in my way.
The fantastic thing is, after a while my brain began to pick up where my eyes could no longer see. When I was led outside of the car, I could see a wonderful snow covered hill. The colors were somewhat dull still, but it was a snow covered hill all the same. As we walked closer I could see the stairs that led to a splendid estate. A Thrushcross Grange (I have just read Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte) in its own right. As we walked in, I could smell the popurri and see the grandeur of the home. Rich, burgundy rug covered the deep mahogany of the hard wood floors. Candles were lit, and I could hear glasses clinky and people merrily mingling. An air of excitement filled the grand room. It was decorated for Christmas and all types of silver, gold, deep reds and greens popped out at me.
The blind fold was removed. “OPEN YOUR EYES NOW!” my friends shouted in unison.
I didn’t want to open my eyes. In fact, I hesitated a bit. But then my eye lids slowly parted, and there I was in the middle of a pet store.
Birthdays are weird. they’re overrated and underrated at the same time. because you go into it with your souped up modesty– “oh no, please this card/gift was unnecessary.” and when people break out in song “oh no, please stop singing. it’s not a big deal.” at the same time, it makes you feel really good inside. they are all recognizing and celebrating your day. it’s kind of neat, and something that puts you in a league with martin luther king jr. and “the presidents.” and if your friends forget, it makes you kind of sad. you kind of come to expect outbursts of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” or hastily-made “cards” (computer paper shoddily folded in half written with pens and highlighters for that splash of color).
At the same time, why is this day really any difference. And after the age of 13, the buildup and fun really isn’t there anymore. (With the exceptions of 16, 18 and 21, of course). but honestly 17? who really cares… “oh you can see an R rated movie.” but i saw Titanic when i was 11. not a big deal at all. after 13, only birthdays that come with writs of passage really matter.
in fact, i feel like birthdays can even be worse than normal days. just like in 16 candles, there is so much expectation and so much room for failure unlike any other day. any other day, an average joe schmo pessimist like me, imagines that day will have its fair share of shittiness. however, on your birthday, it almost has to be good. it’s the day you were introduced into this world, after all. the bar is set so high, it’s easy to limbo underneath it.
basically what i’m trying to say is today felt kind of special. but at the same time. not special at all. a completely ordinary day. but extraordinary at the same time. someone baked me brownies, another made me cookie bars, and another sent me flowers. so unnecessary. but so nice. :) but now, there isn’t really anything. it’s over. it all happens so quickly. and now i just feel kind of crappy. but i felt kind of crappy before. i don’t know…
“All good things must come to an end.” This aphorism seems to hold true to the tests of time. As much as we wish otherwise. We want those specific golden moments (minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades…) to remain for eternity, sometimes holding on to them like security blankets, until they are well past their prime. We wish for these golden moments would stay golden forever, even when we know it cannot happen.
However, there is no exclusionary clause contained in this aphorism saying we cannot mine new gold from the ever-rich earth. Excuse this extended metaphor, but there is more gold to be found, gold that is just as good as the last, if not more valuable. Just because some has been extracted does not mean the ground is not brimming with more! We must learn to stop hording those golden memories of the past and allow ourselves to cherish them, while continuing seeking new gold. Forge new relationships. Begin new adventures. Start new chapters. Coasting on past memories is not enough. All good things must end, but once one does– begin another!
While I have trouble practicing what I preach, I have a feeling that life would be more worthwhile this way.