Scarlett

Scarlet the bunny joined us yesterday.  We had a tragic and unexpected loss a few weeks ago, when Francesca the rabbit--Ferrero the one-eared-rabbit's soulmate--died.  It was a shocking and horrible experience for all of us, but especially for Ferrero.  They loved each other deeply and were constantly snuggled up together.

Ferrero has had a rough time with partners.  We adopted him years ago as a partner for our Fiona rabbit.  She was an older girl and very sweet and they were very close, so it was tough when we lost her.  After several dates, he selected Freesia as his next partner.  Freesia's whole family was in foster care, and most of the siblings had strange health issues.  At a fairly young age (around 3 years old) Freesia started losing the use of her back limbs.  It didn't take long for full rear paralysis to set in.  One or two of her siblings had similar issues.  Paralyzed rabbits are not unusual, and maintenance can be a challenge.   It takes quite a bit of work to express their urine, keep them clean and free from urine burns, and dry.  I was able to keep her comfortable and fairly happy. She needed to be repositioned every couple of hours and cleaned up.  They can't be left wet, so we spent lots and lots of time blow drying her fur after a thorough cleaning.  She was my second paraplegic rabbit, so I knew what to expect.  When she passed away, it was really hard on Ferrero and me.  She and I had bonded so much in the last few months of her life.  Ferrero was depressed, even with his guinea pigs friends to comfort him, he is a guy who really likes having a partner.  Ferrero stayed by her and cared for her up until the end. 

We scheduled more dates for Ferrero, and we went back to Freesia's sisters who were still in foster care.  Big white rabbits with red eyes are the least adopted, so they tend to languish in shelters and foster care.  He matched well with Freesia's sister, who we adopted and named Francesca.  I knew that we were tempting fate by going back to a litter with extensive genetic issues, but I was hoping we'd get luckier this time.  Unfortunately for Ferrero, we were not lucky.  Our sweet Francesca was absolutely fine at night--behaving normally, eating well, etc., and I found her dead in the morning.  We were heartbroken at the loss.  He was so happy with her.

We were planning to go back to the same litter and try for another sister, but fate had different plans.  We have gotten to know many of the neighbors along our normal dog walk route, and one of the families had a small rabbit who's been living in an outdoor hutch.  Every time we walked by there, it broke my heart.  She was alone outside, very hot, very cold--didn't matter, in a wire cage with a wire bottom all day, every day.  From time to time, the little girl who adopted her and her four siblings took the rabbit out to play with, and it didn't appear to be very gentle.  No animal should be confined to a cage.  What a horrible existence!  Worse than that--a wire bottomed cage.  Imagine spending your entire existence barefoot, standing on thin wires.  It causes all manner of discomfort and foot diseases/wounds/infections.  After Francesca died, I told them that if they were ever open to it, I would love to adopt their rabbit.  They've dumped several animals already, so I thought it was worth a shot.

Friday afternoon, they told us that they were ready to get rid of Scarlett, so I could have her.  I was thrilled!  We picked her up Sunday.  She's never been to the vet, so we will take her tomorrow and get a clean bill of health.  Until we get vet sign off, I'm keeping them separate.  She's in the room with Ferrero (and the guinea pigs and birds) but she's in an enclosure.  As much as I hate having her locked up, it's A LOT bigger than what she lived in before with a soft fleece floor for her little feet.  She has very thin silky fur and very little body fat, so she was especially unsuited to be out in the cold all winter.  I'm so glad she's warm and comfy.  I feel a little bad about taking a visually desirable rabbit rather than a big white one, but it seems like the universe wanted her here.  I've always focused on adopted the ugly/special needs/less desirable animals, leaving the "cute" more adoptable ones for people who care about things like that.

Once we get a clean bill of health, I can start trying to introduce them and hope for the best.  Rabbits can be very particular about their partners.  I've always done bunny dates and been confident that we had a love match before bringing anyone home.  In this case, I have not done that and am desperately hoping for the best.  Ferrero is a very laid back, non-aggressive bunny.  He was attacked a couple of times by the females when he was dating and never fought back.  All three of his previous partners were bossy and spunky, and he was happy to go along with whatever they wanted.  He's a big sweetie.  Scarlett is tiny and very sweet and non-aggressive with me, so I hope that bodes well for their relationship.  I'm feeling cautiously confident that we can make it work.  In the absolute worst case, if they hate each other and can't safely be alone together, I will have to put up a barrier and split their room in half.  It's not ideal, but it will work.  I'm really hoping, though, that this is his fourth and last beloved.

In other news, my husband turned 50.  I'm older than him, so it's always nice when he finally crosses into the same decade as me, so I don't have to listen to him say he's still in his 40's, while his wife is in her 50's. :D  He's such a goof.  Before Covid, I had planned to throw a surprise 50th party for him.  He likes things like that (I do not!).  Obviously Covid took that off the table, so he observed his usual birthday tradition of drinking beer while binging on Game of Thrones (GAG!) all day.  I made him shepherd's pie (his favorite) and a variety of peanut-butter-focused desserts (also his favorite).

Pasha

I did not want any more cats.  I do not need any more cats.  Yet Pasha the cat moved in to join us about a month ago.

She has been hanging around our property for two years now.  She was ear tipped, so I didn't have to worry about trapping her for a spay. She came to eat every night and stayed in our garage (which has heat lamps and heated beds all winter) but wouldn't let me touch her.  I started sitting outside every evening at her food spot for an hour or so, until she seemed comfortable eating while I was there.  It took a few more weeks of sitting there quietly before she allowed me to barely touch her fur. A few more weeks of perseverance and she was letting me rub and scratch her everywhere--even rolling over for belly rubs.  I treated her for fleas and started bringing her in from time to time in the evenings.

She would immediately relax, purr, and go into the deepest sleep I had seen her in.  When she slept outside, she was always on edge, listening and popping her eyes open, always alert for the potential encounters with other cats or animals.  It made me see to see her truly relaxed inside, knowing she never had that luxury outside.  Each night that I brought her in, she would cry at the door between 2-3 AM.  Since it was summer, I let her back out.  I kept hoping she would stop asking to go out.

The weeks around the fourth of July were really traumatic for her. She was jumpy and scared all the time, and frequently didn't finish her meal because of a loud firework that sent her off to hide in the garage for the night.  Shortly after that, we lost ground.  She seemed afraid and skittish and scooted away whenever I tried to touch her.  We had lost most of the ground I made over the past few months.  It was heartbreaking.  So, I started the whole process over.  After a couple of weeks of that, we were almost back to our previous comfort level.

About two weeks before I brought her in, she showed up with scratches on her face.  A few days after that, her normal robust appetite was slowly decreasing.  Each night, she ate a little less, and it took her longer. That, combined with a cold snap in the weather, convinced me that it was time to bring her in.  I had taken care of an outdoor cat for about three years before she showed up.  I called him Sasha.  He was a beautiful black and white, long haired cat, and despite my best efforts, he never let me touch him.  He was always here.  One day in the middle of a cold winter, he disappeared.  He was not returning to his garage to sleep, nor was he eating.  I watched for him (and still do) but he never came back.  That ripped my heart out, and I still think of him daily and wonder what happened to him.  I couldn't live with another disappearing cat, so Pasha moved in.

I was committed to ignoring her 2-3 AM demands to be let out.  The first night was rough.  She yelled, and I sat with her.  I took her to a litter box, but she immediately jumped out and returned to her safe window shelf.  The second night, we followed the same routine, but this time she used the litterbox before returning to her shelf, and she stopped meowing.  This continued for a couple more nights, until she was comfortable enough to walk to the litterbox herself.  Apparently she was crying to get out, because she had to poop and didn't feel safe yet doing so in the house.  Her appetite continued to decrease.

I took her into the vet for a wellness check.  She was ten years old and looked good and healthy with the exception of what appeared to be a plum-sized tumor growing through her abdominal wall.  Because of the location, it couldn't be removed.  They tried, unsuccessfully to aspirate the tumor.  We came home very sad, and just hoped that the tumor was slow growing, so she could enjoy some safe, peaceful, indoor living before she died.  He appetite was almost non-existent within a couple of days and she was increasingly lethargic.  I was devastated that it seemed the tumor was aggressive.  On that Sunday afternoon, we noticed a dime-sized hole had appeared on her side, over the location of the tumor.  I called the vet and sent a picture, and he said we'd just start her on antibiotics Monday morning.  I picked her up to carry her down for snuggles, and her side exploded a massive quantity of hot, rancid pus that ran down my arm.  A lot came out!  About the amount that would be commensurate with a plum-sized growth.  

I spoke to her vet on Monday to get the antibiotics, and he voiced my hope--it was very possible that she had a nasty sack of infection that looked like a tumor on Xrays.  If so, antibiotics would clear everything up.  After her two-week course of antibiotics were done, she went back in for tests.  The best-case scenario was true:  no tumor, no cancer, no infection, not even a scar.  She's a healthy, ten year old cat, with many years to enjoy the household living she's become accustomed to.

She spends her time rotating between four windows.  She likes to watch different parts of the yard at different times a day.  She is fully at home exploring the house, and spends a part of the night cuddled with me and a part with Mark.  We haven't had any fights or issues integrating her with the other cats or dogs.  I showed her the outdoor enclosure, and she spent a little time out there the first day but hasn't gone back out since.  I was surprised by that, as I expected her to want to spend more time outside.  She doesn't ask to go out and seems very content to be a house cat.

I'm so glad I brought her in when I did!  Had I waited any longer, she would have been too far gone, and possibly wandered off to die.  So despite the fact that another cat is the last thing in the world I need right now, I feel terribly lucky to have this sweet girl!

The wedding

 My older daughter got married last weekend.  Because of Covid, it was an outdoor ceremony, with only immediate family present. I encouraged them to wait another year--so Covid would be over, and also, why rush a wedding, but they were insistent on now.  We are not a family who considers divorce an option.  If you make a promise and sign a contract, you stick with it, no matter what. If you fall out of love, too bad. You made a promise.  If your spouse is not helpful or kind, too bad.  You made a promise.  So...I tend to want to put off such a binding promise.  I'd feel better if they'd been together a few more years before committing for the next 50+ years, but it's done.  I'm glad she was at least older (30) and had some time to experience life on her own and with different partners.

I got to officiate the wedding, which was held at an apple orchard.  Unfortunately for us, it was 42 degrees.  We didn't wear our coats for the ceremony and pictures, so it was a brutally cold day.  Mark walked Dej "down the aisle", which is something he's always looked forward to.  She wore my grandmother's broach, so grandma was kind of there with us.

It was a very short ceremony, with advice from each of the parents on how to maintain a long, happy marriage, since the four parents have over 50 years (combined) of successful marriage under our belts.  I read a short blessing, and they exchanged rings and read their own vows to each other.

They rented the outdoor pavilion (also cold), with a separate picnic table for each side of the family, which allowed us to remain distant.  Dej made some of her delicious waffles, dipped them in chocolate, and she had raspberries and whipped cream (all vegan, of course!).  I made caramel apple cupcakes, and they also had warm apple cider.  We had lots of delicious food to celebrate with!

I'm so eager to see the photos, which are not yet back!  There are a few that the photographer posted as a sneak peak, but I'm stalking the site for the remainder of the photos.

I'm really proud that they had the exact wedding they wanted, where they wanted it, and did things their own way.  It would have been equally small and simple without Covid.  They are focused on saving their money for a house, rather than dumping thousands of dollars for one day.  Their marriage and life together is so much more important that the wedding, and I'm really glad that they know that.  Dej chose a very non-traditional, but absolutely perfect, red dress, which was very much reflective of her.

I fell behind a bit on my grading but have worked hard this week to get caught up again.  As much as I love and will miss teaching, the idea of having a job where: 1) I'm actually paid for the work I do instead of working summers, holidays, weekends, and most evenings for free, 2) I'm paid fairly for my work, instead of being grossly under compensated while dozens of admin/bureaucrats who generate no revenue and work an easy 40 hours are paid several times what I am, and 3) Having weekends, holidays and actual real days off, really appeals to me.  

The university system is broken and getting more so by the day.  The students certainly aren't getting their money's worth in education, and this makes me feel really bad for them.  Adjuncts are not appropriately compensated.  There are still far too many very low-quality faculty members who are focused more on being published than educating students.  Covid may be the final blow to the quickly failing system.  I hope whatever replaces the system, when it fails, gives the students a quality, affordable education, compensates the teachers (revenue generators) appropriately, and does not simply redistribute wealth to a handful of administrators.

It has been a difficult time to watch what my younger daughter is going through, with one frustration after another and very little help coming from the college, as email after email is ignored.  The majority of her teachers have simply dialed it in, with a complete lack of organization and quality in the materials that they just dumped online with minimal effort.  I donated my entire summer, working full time to create quality materials for remote learning, but I was not paid. We are constantly given the horrible choice of choosing to give our students a quality education at our own peril (hundreds of unpaid labor hours and lost family time) or screw our students over by spending almost no time but having a life and not donating the majority of our time to a university that doesn't offer any compensation or job security in return.  We're paid the same whether we're great teachers or awful teachers. Many of my colleagues, understandably, chose themselves over their students. It's really frustrating to be the parent paying for a sub par education and less-than-professional curriculum and instruction.  I desperately wish there was an alternative.