I caught another baby bunny yesterday. It popped out of hiding when Caleb started up the lawnmower near a particularly high patch of beautiful purple wildflowers (read: weeds); the girls went nuts running after it, again, but it was I who completed the capture.
Just call me "The Rabbit Whisperer".
We decided, once again, to let it go, wondering if it had indeed lost its family in Sunday’s Big Rabbit Upheaval..and worrying whether or not it would survive on its own out in the cold cruel world that is our yard. If I catch it again, I’ll consider it a sign and I’ll keep it. Where? I don’t know. The house is off limits, and bunnies kept in cages outdoors ’round here are notorious for becoming coyote food. So I’m praying that little thing stays completely camoflauged far away, thriving all on its own…We have absolutely no need for another pet of any kind.
Moving right along. Yesterday I took Mia to the playground and I saw someone not many people will ever see. A woman beside me (who was, coincidentally, enormously pregnant just like myself) had herself two adorable little boys; at first I paid no attention to them until I saw them side by side…in their wee little matching outfits (green and yellow John Deere caps, thermal shirts, overalls, and sneakers–freakin’ cute!). It didn’t hit me until their mother told me they were both 24 months old–they were twins! I did a double take. One boy was as tall as Mia. The other boy was no bigger than a one-year-old. He was a real, live, kid with Progeria–only from watching the Discovery Channel do I know that, in short, it’s an extremely rare disease that ages a person much faster than normal. Most don’t live to be 25 years old. The size, the facial features…it was so hard not to ask the woman a trillion questions.
All the sudden I felt awful–my biggest worry in life at the moment involves whether or not to allow Caleb to dress our son in a Gators onesie for the ride home from the hospital. And yet here was this lady, who sat knowing one son would soon be suffering major health problems before dying very young, and wondering if the next baby would be okay at all. The kid seemed to be perfectly healthy, but still…I guess I needed a little wake-up call. Then Mia started jumping from the top of a 4-foot plastic dog to the roof of its 4-foot plastic doghouse, and I decided it was time to go home and appreciate the good things in life–like wild baby bunnies that seem to be magnetically drawn to me.
Also on my mind is this book Cheyenne and I have been reading–"Chew On This: Everything You Don’t Want to Know About Fast Food". It’s by the same guy who wrote "Fast Food Nation" but for the life of me I can’t remember his name and I’m not about to get up and go hunt for the book–if you’re really interested, I know you can find it by the title just as easily as you can by author. Anyway, it’s good reading–and I guarantee it’ll keep you out of McDonald’s for the rest of your life. Anyone with common sense knows that fast food just isn’t healthy–it’s got a ton of fat, a ton of sugar, and a ton of calories in just about any item on the menu. Cheyenne really bought into every point the book made. I’m mainly concerned with the part about where our meat comes from–and I mean even the stuff I buy for my family at the regular old grocery store. To think that I’m probably eating chickens that were fed not just cheap crap, but the cheapest crap imaginable, including other dead chickens! Growth hormones, cramped quarters, and a death that involves being dipped in either an electrified bath of cold water, or a scalding bath of boiling water. And all that I just said–that’s putting it the neat, clean, and nice way.
Now I understand why people are making such a big deal about eating only organic stuff. Now, I can’t even bring myself to raise a rabbit, so I’m certainly not buying a truckload of chickens anytime soon. But I am extremely motivated to find out where one can purchase a good-for-eatin’, well-fed, and humanely-treated animal. I might have to resort to involuntary vegetarianism.