WATERSHIP DOWN!

The weekend ended too quickly, and the four day week seemed to go on forever, and then the following weekend disappeared in the blink of an eye.  I am told my perception of time is a symptom of aging!  

Samantha had been concerned about her dog.  After surgery, Frank was like a puppy, like he had a new lease on life, which of course, he did!  However, as the heat became rather oppressive, long walks in the middle of the day were not recommended, and certainly not preferred.  Despite the initial burst of energy, the dog seemed to get a little bit lethargic.  She made an appointment for him at the vet, but it was a week away.  A whole week and a weekend would have to be lived before any answers were given!

Saving animals, or at least protecting them, seemed to be on the agenda.  I never had pets, apart from a very responsive goldfish, and did not fully understand the relationship (although my goldfish and I were very close) between an owner and a pet. My new life in the USA changed that, and I quickly realised that the pet is every bit a part of the family as any human member.  I worry about the dog almost (and I am forced to admit probably the same amount) as much as I do over my kids, grand kids, and extended family,  However, I am still not what you might call an 'animal lover', and if there is an injured possum on the ridge,  or a disheveled raccoon behind the dumpster, I would probably mention it to someone, rather than take charge. Whilst I would take Frank to the doctor, should he come to harm, or at least hold him as someone drove, my act of heroism stops there!  Fortunately for the animal kingdom, my children have not inherited my lack of compassion, or as they say, responsibility, in this area.  

I received a call from my daughter one evening, prior to the visit to the vet, and listened to her story.  "Edward had to go back to work and I heard squeaking outside".  I waited, as I could not quite see the connection between the two comments.  She continued.  "I saw a cat, and two rabbits under the bush, and the cat got one of the rabbits".  I tried to sound sympathetic, but was rather impassive. She went on to explain that whilst the cat had dragged one of the wild bunnies to what was no doubt impending demise, the other one was still under the bush.  "Oh", was all I could say.  She then asked what she should do.  I had a guest for dinner and was just about to dish up dessert.  Callous as it may seem, I told her that there was not much she could do.  The rabbits were wild, and this is what happens in the wild.  The silence that screamed at me was enough to suggest that this was not the right answer.  I continued to dig myself into a deeper hole.  "If you mess with nature, it upsets the whole status quo!" (I can almost here the gasps of breath, and comments of disapproval.)  "I can't leave it there!" came  the emphatic response.  Her thought had been to put on some gloves, pick it up, and put it in a box.  Then she would see if she could find an animal rescue centre, or the like, and transport it to safety.  I concurred this was a very good idea, and told her to let me know what happened.

Dessert had barely been placed on the table, when I was treated to the next installment!  "I can't get anyone to answer the phone.  I called a couple of places, but they are only open during working hours.  I don't know what to do.  The cat might come back.  I can't bring it into the house because of Frank".  I sighed a little too loudly.  "What would you do if you were in England?" I asked.  "Bring it into the house, because you wouldn't have let me have a dog when we lived there!" was not the response I had expected. I did not go into the fact that she would probably not be living at home, and could do what she wanted, but that seemed counter productive.


"What's wrong?" asked Dana, and I explained the predicament.  "Call the wildlife centre", came a recommendation from our dinner guest.  I was slightly lost.  There seemed to be a never ending series of options coming from both my husband and friend.  I was outnumbered.  I called Samantha to give her the recommendation.  "Done that.  No one answers."  Back to square one.  Leave the bunny to its own devices.  (Sorry!)  She had scooped it up and put it into a box, and taken it through to her back garden, in the hope that it would be alright.  

The clock ticked, and time continued, and we bid goodnight to our guest, and cleared away the dinner plates, and tidied the kitchen before retiring.  "It's eleven o'clock", I said when Samantha called. "But I called another number, and I have been looking up to see what I should do.  I mustn't give it food."  I remembered my parents telling me that they had been told not to feed the wild animals when they went on a safari, and relayed this to my daughter.  "But we are not on safari, and this is not the jungle.  This is my back garden, and it is a baby rabbit, not a wild animal".  Well, technically, it was a wild animal, but I was not going to remind her of the details.  "No, but what can you do?" I responded, in the hope that she would see a glimmer of sympathy for her predicament.  Edward was due home shortly, and perhaps he would have an idea.  "I think it is hurt.  It looks like its paw is missing, and there is blood.  I don't want to move it too much".  I went into autopilot, much as I tried to avoid it.  "Well, that is it, isn't it.  It probably wont survive the night.  Best leave it to its own devices", was the wrong response!  "What is wrong with you?" my daughter retaliated.  As much as she is not her mother's daughter in situations such as these, I am my mother's daughter, and my mother would have closed her ears to the original squeaking sound, and hoped that there was not a mess for someone to clear away in the morning!  I did try to be upset.  I did try to show compassion, but this was not a pet, and I had no relationship with the animal.  

"It's half past eleven!"  I shrieked to Dana when the phone rang again.  "Hey, did you find someone to help?" I said, calmly, and in my most sensitive voice, as I answered.  "No.  I have put a towel over it, and locked it in the downstairs bathroom".  Locked it in?  How big was this bunny.  It's paw could not have been that badly damaged if there was a chance it could turn a door handle.  Visions of Harvey, the 'pooka' in the 1950 film of the same name, came to mind.  If it was that big, how big was the cat!  "How's Frank.  Did he eat his dinner?" was the best I could do!

I managed to sleep, although fitfully, and my dreams, when allowed to occur, were full of animals of all sorts of shapes and sizes, running amok!  

"What did you do with the rabbit?" I asked the next morning, as Frank bounded up the stairs, and dropped a ball by my feet.  "It is in your sun room, in a box.  It is still alive, so that is a good sign". I smiled.  "So you brought it with you.  In the car?"  Sometimes, my daughter thinks I am a five year old, and treats me appropriately!  I was reprimanded, and hauled over the coals regarding my lack of compassion.  "I worry about the dog", was my defense!  

We all drove to the office, and Dana took a look at the rabbit.  Eventually, I found enough courage to look inside the box. There, in the corner, was a tiny fluff ball the size of my hand. I had assumed the creature was much bigger, and felt a little ashamed of myself, as I nearly (only nearly) felt some compassion.

To my daughter's credit, she followed through with her plan, and took the rabbit to a voluntary veterinary centre, that treats wild animals and if they are viable, nurses them back to health and then sends them to a rehab facility, where they are gradually introduced back into their natural habitat.  It is all very humane and really rather amazing!  I did tell her how proud I was of her, and apologised for my lack of compassion.  I am who I am!

On relaying the story to my son, he told us that a crow had flown into their window at work, and injured itself very badly.  All his staff were horrified and insisted something be done, but none were willing to touch the bird.  My son, as did my daughter, put the bird in a box and took it to a rescue centre, where they dealt with it.  Unfortunately, the outcome for the winged creature was not as good as for the bunny, but at least it had been given the chance, once again by one of my children!  I cannot claim responsibility in this area.  

The weekend came and went and Monday morning arrived without invitation.  Samantha arrived at my house, without a dog, and a little concerned.  "He will be fine", I told her, without much conviction, although I was starting to wonder whether the major operation that had taken place a couple of months earlier may be playing a part in what we were seeing.  Her constant (and understandable) fretting about his well being was probably also a factor.  

A Monday has never been so long!  If she had not heard by 2pm, she was to call the vet to find out the results.  2pm came and went, and it took all my strength to restrain myself from running into her room and asking, "Why haven't you called?"  However, at around quarter past the hour, she walked out of the office, and sat in her car.  I watched, through the blinds, and hoped she could not see me.  She had, apparently, been working up the courage to call.  It was a 'Schrodinger cat' scenario.  Until she heard otherwise, the dog was fine.  Obviously the cat that got the rabbit was not aware of Schrodinger!

Apparently, all the results had come back negative.  He had extensive blood work, and a couple of x-rays, and all looked good, but the vet wanted to talk to her.  Dana insisted I go with her to collect the puppy.  Before we left, she called her father to let him know the 'almost' good news.  "Ollie and Steph fell down the stairs.  They are on their way to the hospital now.  Let mum know.  Ollie may have broken his leg".  I showed a lot of concern and compassion!  

The vet was not concerned.  The blood work was good.  He wanted to explain the results, and although most of the marks were down the middle, there were a couple to the left, and one to the right, but not in an area of concern.  He appeared healthy.  He also showed us the x-rays, and pointed out pockets where there should be pockets, and his organs, all of which I understood not a bit, but took the experts word as fact!  He had taken an x-ray of the spleen, for his own peace of mind, as the 'mass' had been in that area, and on first inspection he had thought that to be the problem.  All in all, he was very pleased with the results.  The dog could not wait to get out of the facility, and as Samantha collected his heart worm pills, he dragged me out of the door!

Ollie was not in such a good state!  He had broken his leg in three places, and was waiting to have a cast fitted.  Steph was besides herself, and we were all trying to reassure her that she could have done nothing to prevent it.  However, she is a mum, and the weight of responsibility is heavy.  I wondered if the rabbit's mum had any awareness.  I did not venture to find out for fear that I may feel something more than 'nearly'.

The week continued with less drama.  Frank was still not the 'old' Frank, but I did some research, and spoke to a neighbour who has 'experience' with animals.  After a major operation, and the loss of an organ, it was inevitable that he would have to adjust.  It could take time, and the longer we worried over him the longer that adjustment would take.  The animal has always been a little 'OCD', and any alteration in his surroundings upsets him.  An alteration in his body must be major!

Oliver has a cast from his toes to his thigh, and is being pushed about in a wheel chair, as he cannot put weight on his leg for a month!  As a rising four year old, that must be awful!  However, he is coping admirably, with the help of his mum, dad, family, friends, and lots of Lego!!!  Jamie is wondering why he is not allowed to jump on his big brother, and why his big brother is not able to play.  Steph is suffering from aches and bruises, but doing what mums do, and 'getting on with it'.  I am putting on a brave face!  As for the rabbit, well I am hopeful that he had a better outcome than the crow, and is recovering!

Frank stayed with us on Saturday night, as Samantha and Edward were going out early Sunday, and did not want to leave him for too long on his own, and did not need to pass our house to drop him off.  Apparently, I offered to have him for a sleepover!  I do not remember, but Dana was not averse to the idea.  He woke at one and six, both times wanting to go outside, (Frank, not Dana.  Dana slept soundly all night, a fact I can vouch for, as I did not!) but was quite happy and lively.  They are both currently fast asleep, having a (less than) well earned afternoon nap, as I am once again, awake!

I am quite sure that in a few hours all my family will be in their respective homes, children and animals alike, perhaps wondering what next week will bring, perhaps dreaming about chasing rabbits, (although Frank never catches them,) and all will be well.  I am hoping for a peaceful week, with enough work to keep me occupied, but not overwrought, and enough excitement to keep me happy, but not unduly stressed.  Perfection is for what I strive, but that too is a matter of opinion!  All I know is that I plan to be here, same place, same time, next week, writing ........... another story!