I told one lie in my lifetime. And, as you know it, what goes around, comes around, and this one came back to hurt me.
You know how the universe conspires to help you? And that, if you really want something, it will somehow rein in all its mighty powers and, within minutes, days, months…or sometimes even years, helps you get it? Well, I wanted a rabbit once. Really badly. Been wanting one for years, to be honest. And Mrs. Universe just couldn’t be bothered to help me out. Then I read The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, and it hit me. Just like that, one day, I heard it talk to me. The Universe needed my help to set things in motion. You see, it wanted me to have a rabbit, but I was like the person that wishes to win the lottery without ever buying a ticket. It made perfect sense. What the Universe told me, that day, was “Go BUY one.” Universes, it turns out, are pretty straight shooters.
“Yeah!" I thought. “This is simple, but tricky.” I was still living at my parents’ place. Mom didn't want me to buy a rabbit. She’d made that pretty clear. Many, many times. Dad couldn’t care less and knew my mom cared even less about his opinion. So, for a while, the status quo sat. I presented this dilemma to my new acquaintance, Mrs. Universe. She told me what I had to do.
You know how the universe conspires to help you? And that, if you really want something, it will somehow rein in all its mighty powers and, within minutes, days, months…or sometimes even years, helps you get it? Well, I wanted a rabbit once. Really badly. Been wanting one for years, to be honest. And Mrs. Universe just couldn’t be bothered to help me out. Then I read The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, and it hit me. Just like that, one day, I heard it talk to me. The Universe needed my help to set things in motion. You see, it wanted me to have a rabbit, but I was like the person that wishes to win the lottery without ever buying a ticket. It made perfect sense. What the Universe told me, that day, was “Go BUY one.” Universes, it turns out, are pretty straight shooters.
“Yeah!" I thought. “This is simple, but tricky.” I was still living at my parents’ place. Mom didn't want me to buy a rabbit. She’d made that pretty clear. Many, many times. Dad couldn’t care less and knew my mom cared even less about his opinion. So, for a while, the status quo sat. I presented this dilemma to my new acquaintance, Mrs. Universe. She told me what I had to do.
What do you want me to say? When the wheels are set in motion, there is no turning back.
The Universe made me do it. I flung out a…LIE: I told my mom that a friend at work had a cute little bunny but was allergic. She had to get rid of it but didn’t want the hassle of looking for a new home. If no one took it soon, she would have it put to sleep.
The Universe made me do it. I flung out a…LIE: I told my mom that a friend at work had a cute little bunny but was allergic. She had to get rid of it but didn’t want the hassle of looking for a new home. If no one took it soon, she would have it put to sleep.
That was the clincher. My mom knows of my anxiety when I swat bugs (see previous blog, Bugger) and totally understood my sorrow at the possibility of this (well… that, and the fact that I asked, and asked, and ASKED if we could just please, please, P-L-E-A-S-E save that poor little doomed thing’s life. Over, and over. So she finally said, quite graciously “Oh, just do what you want!”
So, I did. I bought a cage. And a bunny. I set-up the cage at my friend Caroline’s house. Then I brought both home. Mom met Cocotte. We coldly discussed how my colleague was a sans-coeur, and it was kismet.
Or, rather, serendipity. My mom must have wished some things too, and wouldn’t you know it, the Universe started conspiring FOR HER. Cocotte was one mean bunny. She hated to be petted. She tried to bite. Her teeth started growing in crookedly and she would drool a lot, which caused her neck to itch. So she started scratching, and, oh God, c-h-e-w-i-n-g at her own skin to stop the perpetual discomfort. I felt responsible, and brought her to the vet. He kindly said that she would need to be put to sleep every two to three months, and have her teeth shaved (shaven?). All for the meek price of $180 (each time). The only glitch was, rabbits are very nervous animals, and may not survive being put to sleep. The stress makes their heartbeats accelerate, and they sometimes die from a heart attack. The vet kindly told me it was a tad cruel, and not really worth it but…my anguished tears told him otherwise. So, Cocotte had her first operation. I felt horrible, having to put her through all that. That, and, I didn’t really have the budget to pay for all I was putting her through. I was working to finance my way through university at the time.
So, I did. I bought a cage. And a bunny. I set-up the cage at my friend Caroline’s house. Then I brought both home. Mom met Cocotte. We coldly discussed how my colleague was a sans-coeur, and it was kismet.
Or, rather, serendipity. My mom must have wished some things too, and wouldn’t you know it, the Universe started conspiring FOR HER. Cocotte was one mean bunny. She hated to be petted. She tried to bite. Her teeth started growing in crookedly and she would drool a lot, which caused her neck to itch. So she started scratching, and, oh God, c-h-e-w-i-n-g at her own skin to stop the perpetual discomfort. I felt responsible, and brought her to the vet. He kindly said that she would need to be put to sleep every two to three months, and have her teeth shaved (shaven?). All for the meek price of $180 (each time). The only glitch was, rabbits are very nervous animals, and may not survive being put to sleep. The stress makes their heartbeats accelerate, and they sometimes die from a heart attack. The vet kindly told me it was a tad cruel, and not really worth it but…my anguished tears told him otherwise. So, Cocotte had her first operation. I felt horrible, having to put her through all that. That, and, I didn’t really have the budget to pay for all I was putting her through. I was working to finance my way through university at the time.
Cocotte had a second operation. The vet told me she probably wouldn’t survive the next. So, I made the decision to have her put down. I left her there, because I couldn’t bear the fact that I was the master of her execution. I had bought her, promising to take care of her and to provide her with shelter for years to come. I had also told an elaborate lie, to someone I love very much, in order to get her. Yet, that day, I was abandoning her on a stone-cold grey counter.
I still get nightmares about that. I get an ugly feeling in my stomach, every time I think of her. My throat constricts, my face tingles and my eyes start to water. In fact, I had to pause and get a tissue just now.
I learned my lesson.
And, um, now, may I introduce you to Pinot. A teacher from school bought him, only to soon realize she was allergic to him. For real, this time. She would show up at work, all puffy-eyed and wheezing. (Or so I like to imagine). With Cocotte in mind, I tried for a little redemption. I offered to take him in. It was…Kismet! The Universe was once again on my side, easing my burden of long carried grief just a little bit. This fellah is cuddly, curious, and prone to random, comical bursts of energy. True, he can look possessed, when he shakes his head, but I just turn a blind eye. I’ll take what I can.
However, I have to get rid of him, too. My landlord, it seems, doesn’t allow pets in her building. (I don’t mind, really, because he is a bit of a pain to feed on weekends when I want to travel). Still, let it be known, I pledge my darnedest to find this one a good home.
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