So, why the repost?

Yesterday I reposted a blog entry from last Spring, called Saving Jean-Luc. I was thinking of doing it anyway because this is the time of year when all those un-neutered pets link up with other un-neutered pets and start little families of their own. Families that owners have to deal with. The sad fact is, many owners deal with it by dropping those dear family pets and their off-spring onto some empty country road, mistakenly thinking that pets have what it takes to make it in the wild. They don't.

Jean-Luc's situation is an example of this. He is an example of another mistaken belief, that dropped-off animals will be taken in by people (okay, that part came true for Jean-Luc, but NOT for his mother, and many, many others) and that being dropped off doesn't affect them negatively.

This leads me to why I ultimately decided to repost the entry about Jean-Luc. The other day, we ran out of cat food. We usually have two bowls, one for Min-Min and one for Jean-Luc. One of the dishes was still 3/4 full when I went to bed, and the next morning I came downstairs to Jean-Luc finishing off what was left in that bowl. He left quite a few bits of kibble in the bowl, so he wasn't feeling hungry. But he was feeling anxious.

If you remember from Saving Jean-Luc, he went hungry for a week while he was out on his own as a young kitten. When we found him, he was very, very thin. He continues to have food issues, and after 10 months of adequate food, he still grows anxious when his food bowl is empty. He hasn't ever gone hungry since we found him, and I keep his food bowl full all of the time because I know it bothers him when it begins to get low.

He has ways of letting me know that it is bothering him. The morning that I got up and he had finished the food, he stood by the bowl, flipping it up by the edge with his paw and letting it fall back onto the floor while looking at me with large, anxious eyes. I knew that he wasn't hungry because there were still bits of food in the bowl. He wasn't interested in them. His anxiety wasn't caused by hunger. It was caused by a lack of access to food. He still doesn't trust that even when the bowl is empty, when he is hungry there will be food there for him.

This makes me sad. I know that Jean-Luc lives a charmed life now. He is petted and fawned over, and has taken up an inordinate amount of space on my blog. Still, after 10 months, he hasn't recovered from one week of being lost and alone, starving in the wild.

On the scale of world issues, Jean-Luc's anxieties are beyond minor. I know this. I love animals, but I love people more. This is truly a "first world problem". Still, it is something to think about. Something to be aware of.

Pet ownership responsibility begins before the pet enters our homes. If we can't afford to spay or neuter our pets, we can't afford to have them. Or if we do have them, we are responsible to keep them away from other unspayed and neutered animals. We are responsible. Even when it's a hassle. Even when it is hard. If we do slip up and we end up with a pregnant female, it is our slip up, not hers. So we are responsible to deal with her in a way that is the least damaging to the mother or her babies.

Ultimately, the message is, think. Think about consequences, about responsibilities, about possible problems. I may post a gazillion pictures of cute, furry kittens on my Facebook profile page, but cute and furry is not a reason to get a pet. Are you lonely? Honestly make sure that your sense of responsiblity and commitment to a pet will equal your loneliness, because as much comfort as a fur friend can be, there will still be vet bills, behavioral issues, and the work that is involved in the proper care of pets.

In the end, we need to get past our desires for cute, fluffy, companionship and attention. We need to get practical.

We need to just think.

What my rabbit is teaching me about love...Part 2

I've learned so much about rabbits since Pippin came to live with us.  They are interesting, social creatures with a definite role to play in the dynamics of the animal kingdom. Unfortunately, that role seems to mostly involve feeding other animals.  Rabbits are essentially food. Owning a free-range rabbit makes this abundantly clear.  One of my pet names for Pippin, as twisted as this might sound, is "Plump Morsel".  Aside from the cute factor, which incidentally will NOT work on coyotes and birds of prey, he has very little going for him in the way of self-defense.  He is a little ball of meat and bones in an unspeakably sweet fur coat.  Even those large, luminous eyes are all but useless, being planted on either side of his head.  He can't see what's right in front of him. His face is in the way. He can't see anything coming at him from above, for essentially the same reason.  Rabbits are notoriously fragile.  Every one of the rabbit care sites I visited on-line warned me to be careful how I handle him, because one wrong move and I could break his back.  Add to that the fact that rabbits can literally be frightened to death. In fact, wolves occasionally will just sit and stare at a rabbit until it drops dead from fear.  Easiest snack in the forest.  Their little hearts can just stop if they are too stressed.  It is not unheard of for farmers who keep rabbits in outdoor cages to find them dead in the morning behind locked doors, probably because a coyote walked by and sniffed the cage.

The one thing rabbits do have going for them is speed, and the ability to suddenly change direction while hopping away from danger, making them difficult to keep up with for most predators.  But while on the run, rabbits can become so frightened that they lose control and careen into trees, rocks, even off cliffs.  They are able to see movement easily, because the main self-defense tool a rabbit has is fear of everything that moves.  They know that they are the snack food of the animal kingdom.  This keeps them alert and on guard all the time.  They are timid little beings, quick to react, quick to run, and slow to take risks.

Except for Pippin.  Pippin, as I have already mentioned, is in love with my dog, Mini.  His love language, though, is not the same as that of a dog, and Mini is often irritated to the point of distraction by his amorous efforts.  She has lost her temper with him a few times, even to the point of growling and snapping at him, grabbing him by the back of the neck in a snarling version of "Will you LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY??"  And still, he keeps going back.  Of course, after a shakedown he lays low for a while, but he inevitable heads  back onto Mini's trail, undaunted.  When they are outside and Mini is in a playful mood, Pip plays with her,  even though he knows that her method of play involves running him over, stepping on him, and slapping her paws down on him. He freezes and tries to shrink into himself when he sees her coming, and when it gets to be too much for him, he'll hide under things, but he doesn't stay hidden for long.  He can't. He's in love.

When Mini hears coyotes howling at night, she often asks to be let her out to bark at them.  Many times, she'll race out into the darkness, determined to keep them at bay. Pippin follows her.  Into the darkness.  I stand at the door and worry, because it looks for the life of me as if Mini is bringing her own snack to the party.  Does Pip not know what coyotes are? He must. He has thousands of years of genetic fear factor at work in his little brain.  If the howling and yelping weren't enough, Mini's forcefully protective efforts should be a clue.  He isn't clueless, as I first suspected.  Pippin knows that he is a rabbit.  He understands the danger.  But he's in love. 

It is clear to me that it is love that has caused this funny little guy to over-look an entire species worth of fear and anxiety in order to do the things that he does.  He'll hop out into the darkness towards the coyotes if that's where his love is headed.  He'll allow himself to be run over, stepped on, and growled at, if it means being close to his love.  He'll ignore his nocturnal instincts and stay up all day if that's when his love is up.  He'll follow her anywhere, even if it means disappearing with a "poof!" into fluffy, deep snow with every hop in her direction.  Because he loves her.

I've watched him for months now, and have learned to admire him.  I love his spunk and determination.  I love his cute little face and the way his wiggles his puff of a tail when he's happy. I love watching him clean his ears. And I love his courage.  I struggle with fear a lot.  I think most people do.  Even people who seem fearless often fear appearing afraid.  After God has repeatedly promised to care for me, proven His love for me, met my every need and then some, I still fear. I fear rejection, failure, betrayal, disappointing my loved ones...the list goes on.   God keeps asking me to love and trust Him, and to be brave because He loves me, and His love in me for others will give me courage. 

1John 4:18 says this, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear."  Love creates a sweet, determined, humble courage that just is.  It doesn't announce itself. It doesn't ask for praise. It doesn't fear not being.  It is the hero who shrugs and maintains that he or she didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done...and means it.  It says, "I'm scared", and with a shaky hand and tremulous voice, does the scary thing.  Love isn't foolish or blind. It acknowledges vulnerabilities, weaknesses and danger. I have loved and have been hurt.  I have also been loved and hurt others, which is another post altogether.  But I know that this world is perilous.  The greatest peril, though, is to try to protect myself by refusing to risk loving.  Especially when it is the loving that brings courage.  I pray daily for love, for God and for others.  This truth is not new to me, but it is  kind of God to give me this living illustration of arguably the one of the most timid animal species alive behaving in extravagantly brave ways, all because of his love for another. 

Mini is a reluctant lover.  But a lover she is.  There is no doubt that Pip makes her crazy at times.  But recently, when he went missing for a few days, Mini spent hours outside at night barking at the coyotes, warning them away with a fervor that she doesn't usually show.  She wouldn't come in until we forced her to at bedtime.  She knew that he was out there somewhere. It bothered her that the coyotes were out there as well.  How could she protect him if she didn't know where he was?  How much more will God, who is far from a reluctant lover, care for us? 

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but s spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline." 2Timothy 1:7

What my rabbit is teaching me about love...

Last Fall, my husband brought a rabbit home from a customer call. The first thing I said when I saw the little fellow was, "What is THAT doing here?"  Having owned a pet rabbit before, I had no desire to deal with the chewing, the cage in our already too small house, the droppings, etc.  Then I saw him.  He was adorable, small and beige, with luminous, soulful dark eyes.  The thing that really won me over, though, was his teeth.  He had a disorder that caused his front teeth to grow at an accelerated rate, making it impossible for him to file them down in normal rabbit fashion by chewing and gnawing on things.  His top teeth were so over-grown that they parted company at his bottom lip and spread outwards like a grotesque smilie face. His bottom teeth stuck straight out from his jaw. It was awful.  I took one look, swooned in sympathy, gathered him into my arms and fell in love.  I had illusions of restoring health and happiness to this pitiful specimen of rabbithood.  Boy, was I in for a surprise.

I named him Pippin, because I can never pass up an opportunity to use a Hobbit name.  I did some internet research and discovered that Pippin's teeth would need to be cut.  So after much courage-building and pep talking, Marc and I did the operation. I held him upside down in my lap, all the while crooning encouraging words to all of us, but mostly to Pippin. And Marc wielded the pliers with skill and speed.  Within seconds and with very little fuss, Pip's teeth were cut down to a managable size. He barely flinched.  I almost vomited.

Pip soon became a valued and interesting member of our family. We were able to let him run loose outside  for several reasons. Firstly, the problem with his front  teeth meant that he didn't use them at all.  Being unable to forage for food himself outside, he depended on us for his pellets and so could never wander away from his food source.  He also wasn't able to indulge in the pesky gnawing behavior that could wreak havoc on phone and electrical cords, table legs, shoes, etc.  Secondly, and probably most importantly, Pip fell in love with our dog, Mini. He became her constant companion, her adoring admirer, and unfortunately a torturous source of irritation to her.  He was in her face constantly.  He sniffed her food, drank her water, and indulged in several amorous rabbit behaviors that might win a female rabbit over, but simple served to make a usually docile Mini snarl.

Rabbits, when they are in love, show it in interesting ways.  One way they show their affection is by hopping in circles around the loved one.  Pip does this to me, too. It's a sign of appreciation and care. I think it's cute. Mini doesn't. Pip can actually circle Mini's hind legs while Mini is running away from him. It's fascinating to watch.  Male rabbits also show their sexual interest in a potential mate by spraying their intended w/a foul, urine-type liquid from their back end.  Mini gets sprayed several times a day. When rabbits are really happy, they "binky", which is simply a joyous, twisting leap into the air.  Pip sprays while doing a binky, which results in a stream of "ew" that lands in arced droplets on anything in the vicinity. Mini has wisely adopted an attitude of resigned acceptance about it all.   

I have to admit, I have learned many things by having Pippin around, and by watching him with Mini.  He is funny and sweet, cute beyond belief and full of attitude.  Tomorrow, I am going to tell you one thing in particular that Pippin has taught me, one spiritual principle that he unwittingly illustrates with dedicated beauty every day, and that I long to emulate.  God is creative in the ways that He shows us Himself and how He works in our world.  I'm a simple person, and I love it when God meets me in my simplicity.  For a little guy, Pip has been a big teacher of profound and Godly truths.  But that's tomorrow's post...

Winter

I am not a winter person. Try as I might, I simply cannot reconcile myself with the cold. Snow, I can handle. The cold is a torment. Living in Quebec means that I don't have a choice, I have to live in it. And I am not content with just enduring what is presently swirling outside my window. I feel like I need to find some way to embrace it, some reason to welcome winter. The first step, as always is admitting the truth, which is that I am not a winter person.

I took a walk today. In the Spring, Summer and Autumn, I walk down our kilometre long lane almost every day, sometimes twice. I am always accompanied by Mini, our dog, and Frodo, my cat. I cherish these walks. I do not do this for my health, although I know that there is much benefit to it. I walk because it feeds my soul. My favorite time for walking is twilight. I have walked down the lane towards a rising full moon, then turned to walk back to the sight of our home in a glorious sunset backdrop. The corn rustling in the fields, the birds heading in noisy flocks back to the forest behind the house for the night, the still, fragrant air, the cool of summer evening, the gentle sound of crickets in the grass, the friendliness of Mini racing through the cornfield, and of Frodo pouncing on frogs in the lane...it is a quiet, peaceful, thoughtful time.

Sometimes during these walks my thoughts are anything but peaceful. A twilight country lane walk is a wonderful place to work out ideas and to release irritations and old hurts. Our lane should be littered with discarded resentments, but somehow it is always clean and fresh for the next walk. My time on the lane is magical.

I have to admit, in the winter the lane holds a different kind of magic. It smells fresh and clean. There is a muted hush in which the faintest rustle sends Frodo careening into the ditch after whatever dreaded foe dare move a twig of dry grass in it's travels. (Frodo is a master hunter of worms, flies and the odd ladybug when he is desperate for a kill, but which is never eaten, no matter how great his desperation.) Because walks are so rare in the winter, Mini is extravagantly exuberant at even the mention of one. She becomes a quivering, frantic, desperate whining mess if she even hears the word "walk". Or "talk", "gawk" and "stock" for that matter. So, on our walk this morning, she raced up and down the lane several times to Frodo's and my one. She also ran over Frodo twice, which she usually doesn't do, and which sent Frodo into a hissing fit of fury. It was snowing and cold this morning, and everything looked white and clean. I was bundled up like a two year old on a snow hill. I didn't actually walk the lane as much as I waddled down it. But I did come home feeling better. And so that is something.

I am beginning to suspect that my motivation to go out into the wild white yonder might actually be the animals. Mini loves being outside with her people, and it brings her great joy to walk with me. Frodo is just a kitten, only 8 months old, and this is his first winter. He is showing signs of being as wussy in the cold as I am. Frankly, we all need this. Writing is a solitary, indoor endeavor. Twilight comes early now, often sneaking by before I even get supper on the table. Spending the next few months holed up in the house hunched over a keyboard, sipping tea and chewing pens and waiting for replies and staring at the ice hanging off of the porch could very well take me all the way into the stereotype of the maniacal writer...all I'll need to complete the persona is a dead plant on the desk (oops, got that), a stogie and a bottle of scotch tucked in the desk top drawer.

So at least a few times a week, weather permitting, I am going to bundle up like the Pillsbury dough boy, release my frantic dog, snatch up the reluctant cat and head out for a walk.

When I am not walking, I'll be waiting.

Waiting for daffodils.