Sitting down on my couch, I reached down and scooped up Jack, my little angry one, and held him close to me. He nosebonked and kissed my shoulder while I squeezed him and begged his forgiveness for leaving him without his mom for one week. It would seem that Jack missed me, given the show of affection that I have grown accustomed to not receiving from him.
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Although I enjoyed every moment of my vacation, my mind was constantly abuzz with thoughts of my 8 buns that I had left in the care of a friend. Caring for 7 of the “kids” was certainly more than what was appropriate to ask of anyone. I understand that my fluffy little horde of buns is quite the handful to anyone unaccustomed to caring for so much, let alone specialty exotic animals with a deranged mother and a mile long list of special care instructions for feeding, cleaning, play time, emergency care procedures and veterinarian information. Then there is Jack, who comes with his own personal list of care instructions.
Before the trip, my friend and I decided it would be beneficial to Jack and to her for me to walk her through Jack’s routine and give her hands-on experience with his care requirements including weighing him and recording his weight, monitoring his activity level, checking for signs of dehydration, giving him his antibiotic injection, administering fluids, and irrigating his sinus cavity. All of these things are scheduled differently. Some things are done daily. Some are done every 3 days. Some are done as-needed when warning signs are noticed. As overwhelming as Jack’s care can be and knowing all of Jack’s special little quirks that make all of his care possible, my friend happily accepted the task.
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In my last blog, I explored my fear of losing Jack. He is, to me, a very special little guy. Throughout the past year, his extreme care has brought us so close together and has brought out the best in both of us. I am at peace with his imminent passing, but that does not mean that I am comfortable leaving him for any period of time longer than a work shift. His care is of utmost importance to me. He has to be monitored and I should not and do not expect anyone to look after his furry little butt the way I do.
Jack and I have fallen into a routine that works for both of us. He sits patiently on my lap as I administer his fluids, but only if I place him on a bed or blanket and we have to be sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. That is where he feels comfortable and safe. If I was to move to the couch or the bathroom counter by his scale, he would become antsy. Jack accepts every bit of his maintenance care as well as he possibly can and I am more than thankful for that, however, the price of his tolerance is that his care has to be administered his way. The cost of changing any part of his routine could put an undue amount of stress on him. As a rabbit, it is completely possible for Jack to stress himself to death. Knowing this, I am not prepared to risk stressing his already compromised immune system or his one functional kidney that is thankfully not showing signs of failure from prolonged use of the only antibiotic that will keep his prolific infection at bay. My concern was that being away from him for a week and someone different in the house caring for him would be enough to put that lethal amount of stress on his already fatigued body.
While I was away, another concern constantly gnawed at my mind. This was something that I was helpless to fight until I returned. The dates of my vacation were April 2 to April 9. They would seem to be just dates on a calendar, but not in my mind. Last year, I vacationed at a friend’s house over those exact dates. I returned home late at night, exhausted from 5 hours of road travel and immediately and happily fell into the comfort of my bed. I’d left my husband in charge of the buns and he’d given me no indication that there was an issue. In his defense, no one but I would have noticed it. When I awoke the next morning, the 10th, Jack was splayed out on the floor of my bedroom, exhibiting no desire to move, clearly showing signs of stress or some debilitating issue. I shook the treat bag to rouse him only to be completely ignored which was less than normal. I scooped up my little guy, who felt much lighter and colder than he had before I left, and turned him every which way, examining him. I noticed that his ears, mouth, and boy parts were all shock white. I checked the pliancy of his skin and could tell he was severely dehydrated. Thus began our year-long saga that is Jack’s illness. After rushing him to the vet, it was determined that he had lost weight, was severely anemic, was possibly suffering from cancer, would require a blood transfusion to keep him alive and he would most likely not live longer than two months in the event that it was not a cancer, but without the transfusion would definitely not last through the week. His little body was shutting down. The rest is history, as they say and he is thankfully and most obviously still around, wreaking havoc on the household with his Glare of Doom.
Before the trip, I attempted to rationalize to myself that the dates are only dates despite them being seared into my memory as one of the worst sets of days to occur in my life. I tried to believe that they do not define Jack’s illness. I could not shake the feeling that I would be leaving him like I did the previous year and would once again come home to a dying bun with a problem that could have been prevented had I been there. To me those dates represent two things. They represent both the victory that the two of us have shared; that Jack and I have fought and kept him going strong for a fantastic, stunning period of time. It is very rewarding to me, however, they also represent the imminent possibility of Jack’s illness returning and that I will be helpless to combat it when it does.
Hearing the voices of my family in my head, I had no choice but to leave Jack. I was socially obligated to commit to this particular vacation that I would have been otherwise very happy and excited to take. My fear of leaving Jack kept me grounded at home for a year and a half and I do not regret it. As much as I have longed to visit my family, I have always believed that I have done the right thing. Jack is my daily life as well as my other “kids” and my husband. I would do the same thing for any of them. I would also drop everything on a dime if one of my family members at home was in an emergency state or required care that I am best-suited to give. In my mind, Jack has priority because his life is so dependent on me and my care regardless of the fact that he is not human and has a much shorter lifespan. In my mind, he needs me more than anyone else at this point in time.
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Sitting comfortably on my couch with Jack snuggling uncharacteristically in my arms and Nightshade nosebonking my side, I bubbled with joy and contentment. I could not have been more happy or relieved to be home with my sweet buns. The love that my buns gift me with amazes me every day. I cannot imagine my life without my amazing, life-changing rabbits. They are pure joy and light in my eyes and I would do anything for them, to keep them safe, and to give them as much love and happiness that they have given me in return. Absence does definitely make the heart grow fonder.
