Cadbury, a Rabbit of Taste and Scholar
Look at this picture. It's adorable. You may also recognize this little guy from the front page video on my barely functional, perpetually under construction, stagnating site. But instead of being in one of Erica's extra rooms, this cute little guy is sitting in my locker of Dante books (locker #153). There's a reason for this and it goes thusly.
Let me preface by saying I've never really been a big fan of Erica's dog, Yogi. It's not necessarily Yogi's fault but he has a lot going against him from the beginning: (a) I'm not a dog person, (b) I don't like big animals for pets, (c) I usually don't like dogs that don't act like my family dog (now passed -- rest comfortably, Niya) and (d) I don't like animals that seem afraid of me for no reason. I'm a fairly easy-going person that moves relatively slow. But Yogi has had a rough life, living on the streets for years and, most probably, in an abusive home at some point, so he's very skittish around me. He races around the room with any slight sudden movement I make, pacing in such a way that I'm not sure if he's sizing me up or if he's so scared he's not sure where to go to be safe. He also likes to take small dumps ("nervous poo" we call it) when I come in to take care of him while Erica's on vacation.
Yogi is just one of the animals in Erica's zoo: she also has two cats, another dog (her first, Maeby), now a foster dog (Parker -- please adopt Parker), two cats (Bo and Jangles) and she used to have two rabbits (Cadbury and Smooshface). The list of importance to me of animals in the house: (1) Cadbury, (2) Bo, (3) Smooshface, (4) Maeby, (5) Jangles and a distant (6) Yogi (Parker doesn't really count since she's not really Erica's).
Smooshface was a cute rabbit with all white fur and a small, flat face (hence my clever, clever name). She was adventurous and bold, a rebel. She raced around wherever she wanted, flipping over plastic igloos with reckless abandon, pooing wherever she felt a pellet of feces was necessary, caution to the wind ... a true devil-may-care attitude. Cadbury, a normally cautious little guy, rode the wave with his roommate like so many other movie clichès featuring a more-or-less boring male protagonist and the new fly-by-the-seat-of-her-tight-pants girl in his life (see Dharma and Greg and Forces of Nature for examples). But it was certainly Smooshface's bold curiousity that would lead to her demise.
Erica was outside when Yogi found a way into the rabbit room. I imagine the rabbits both hid but Smooshface was the first to come out and check out the scene. Yogi barked wildly before attacking then mauled her so fiercely she was somewhere between catatonia and seizure when Erica found her. But she was still alive. Erica rushed to gather her things to get her to an emergency animal vet but Yogi found his way back in and finished her off.
When we buried Smooshface I couldn't even look at the body. Erica called me at work to tell me, sobbing, of what happened. And, I kid you not, I was probably more affected by Smooshface's untimely (and gruesome) death than I was when my mom told me the family dog, our pet for ten or more years, walked into the light. When Erica relayed to me the events through tears and short-breaths I had to sit down. And the burial, in a plot behind her house beneath an old climbing tree, was emotional.
I didn't cry or anything but it was certainly sad.
I've never had a real pet of my own. I had hermit crabs for a while but it's not like they're all that snuggly and, seriously, I don't really think they understood my existence outside of the giant's presence coincided with new food and clean water. But I've never really wanted a pet. Dogs are too needy; cats are too much trouble. Both could possibly kill me. If I were going to get a pet, it was going to have to be one I could understand. I don't get dogs, unconditionally loyal and rough ... and the barking. Oh, the barking. Cats I get better but tend to be self-serving to the point of distraction. Rabbits, though. Rabbits I get.
What other animal combines the great parts of a cat (self-cleaning, quiet, adorable, trained to poo in its own little section of the world), the adventurousness of a dog while maintaining a sense of autonomy? Everytime I went to visit the Rabbits when Erica was away I understood that they would allow me to stick around but didn't really care whether I was there or not. Really, they had better things to do like sniff the floor, eat hay and gnaw on everything.
The thought of Cadbury ending up in Yogi's hideous maw was too much for me to bear so I offered Erica a new home for the small creature. And now here he is. Cadbury and I have been happy roommates for almost two weeks now. I feed him a salad of assorted vegetables each morning (which means I also have to eat more "rabbit food" since he doesn't eat nearly as much as I have to buy), make sure there's nothing horribly dangerous for him to gnaw on/jump into/knock over in my room and he's free to roam wherever he wants. I'm not sure how much he cares that I'm around (especially since he grunts at me sometimes when I invade his space -- yes, rabbits grunt ... and honk) but we get along fine. And the allergy? Well, it's there, of course, but not nearly like cats or dogs. Some OTC Clariton or a refill of my Zyrtec should do me just fine.
And sadly I've become one of those guys that talks about his pet as if the people around him care. What an equally joyous occasion for saving a life yet horrible fall from social grace and conversational content this is.
