Pipp
Well-Known Member
Can't access my Blog for some reason, so I'll post this here. (I'm also sure I've told this story here before, but hey, it's a new year, here it is again). 
It was three years ago today that a chance meeting on a downtown corner changed my life.
I walked past her at first.... She was sitting on the sidewalk munching on a leaf from askinny tree above her that survived in spite of exhaust fumes and pigeon droppings on what was probably the busiest corner in all of beautiful Vancouver, BC.
She had atiny cat collar around her neck with a not-so-tiny chain dog leash attached. It probably weighed more than her. She was just a little baby.
At the other end of the leashwerea twoblonde, blue-eyedstreet kids,a young,angelic-looking couple,hat-in-hand asking for spare change.
My friend Louise and I got about 10 feet past them... andsuddenly I wheeled around. I had to goback.
"I don't have spare change," I said, "buthow much would you want for that bunny?"
They surprised me by saying they'd part with her for what they'd had paid for her -- $40. It seemed they had bought 'him' when they had a place to stay, their situation had changed, and they had to go to court (I didn't ask) and couldn't take him in with them.... I agreed... the briefest tear sprang up in the girl's eyes, but they handed him over -- leash and leaf and all -- and took their $40.
"Now what?" I thought. I didn't want a bunny -- especially a plain-looking (sorry baby!) black rabbit that would probably grow up to be a bighulking thing, livingin a cage, let out to run and poop all over the house.
But what made me go back was two-fold. Foremost, with a bus whizzing by inches from her head (not that she seemed to mind) and the goopy maple leaf dinner in her mouth, I was very concerned with her welfare.
Secondly, Louise and I were on our way to another friend's party -- and I had just called her and heard the tragic news that while they were preparing for the bash, her dog had run out of the house and had been hit by a car and killed.
I was certainly willing to take care of the bunny for the rest of its life --I'm not one to support surprise gifts of live animals-- but I thought I'd take the bunny with us, and see if some comfort, or at least a distraction, could come from it.
We stopped at my house first. Walking there was uneventful. The bunny wasn't phased bynew people or by being carried.I'dput her down every few blocks and she'd grab a dandelion leaf and happily much away. At home, I put the bunny down in my spare room while I searched for a cat carrier, and started to warn Louise to watch her andnot let her go under the bed because we'd never get her out. But it was too late. Under the bed she went. I just started to freak... when she immediately toodled out the other side. This bunny was certainly not into hiding. She continued to explore every corner.
When we arrived at the party, I took the bunny out of the tiny carrier to stretch her legs -- and she immediately went exploring. I followed at the end of the leash. There were a hundred people in the house, music, the smell of cooking food, a big cat -- nothing phased this rabbit as she wended her way around the hordes of feet (with me sounding out 'don't step on the bunny' warnings (much to people's confusion) as we went.
Soon myfriend was introduced to the nameless little rabbit, and immediately burst into tears. She'd love to have the bunny.She even had ahutch in her backyard. I felt a tiny twinge of regret -- she was so fearless -- but also relief. I didn't want a rabbit.
My friend named her Pip -- a name inspired bya watermellon seed. (I added another 'p' to make it more unique -- like her).
She was my close friend, I kept in daily touch, I always asked about the bunny. I wasn't all that happy that she kept the bunny outside. She had her insideat night, Pippmade her own home by chewinga hole in the bathroom wall. But she couldn't catch her, and she believed in animals being in their natural state, so most of the time she was loose in her backyard.
She phoned once to tell me excitedly how the little bunny had taken a run at a large crow that landed in the yard and knocked it flat, stunning it with a kamikaze kick.
Another time she told howthe bunny -- still thought of as a boy in those days -- had gotten out of the yard through an open gate,trucked ondown the alley, found a house with an open door andwent hopping inside -- a bit of a shock for the neighbour, who had to godoor-to-door to find out where she lived.
It was a cute but worrisome story. I asked her to please keep the bunny inside at least at night, and she agreed. She complained she couldn't catch her. She alsosaid she didn't think the bunny liked her very much.
She went to the door to get the bunny in while I was still on the phone to her. I heard her open the door and start to call before going, 'Oh!'. The bunny had raced inside as soon as the door opened.So much for 'catching' her. Apparently she had often tried to get in the house.It was becoming clear they hadn't bonded AND that thebunny didn't like living outside.
My friend decided to spend December in Hawaii, and asked if I could bunnysit.
"Of course!"
On the designated day, she appeared at my door with the bunny in abig dog crate. She said she was late because it took awhile to catch her. And off she went to Hawaii.
I was surprised (and pleased) to see the rabbit hadn't grown, at least not much.I didn't know about 'dwarfs', or at least hadn'tthought about it. I put the crate in my room and opened the door. I think this time it took a few minutes before she came out, and she did so warily. But within minutesshe was back to the fearless little creature I had known. I didn't try to pet her or pick her up.Her life with my friend had been akin to a wild bunny, I expected her to remain that way.
But on her second or third day with me, much to my surprise, she jumped on my lapand began licking me.From that point on, shesnuggledlikeit was the most natural thing. I didn't know it then, but she had picked meas her mate. (I think it was a close call between me and the cat).
When my friend returned from Hawaii, I asked for shared custody. But when she came to pick herup, Pipp took one look at her and ran. She had never done that with anybody before. She'd usually run towards people, not away from them. That bunny hated my friend! :yuck (And my friend knew it).:biggrin2:
Towards the end of January, my friend took her to the vet for a medical issue that escapes me now -- maybe a scratched eye from an altercation with the cat. (The cat pled self-defence and won the case).
Thatvet confirmed Pipp was a boy.:shock:
I had done the research andwanted to get 'him' neutered. My friend wanted him kept in his 'natural state' (similar to her 'freedom in the backyard philosophy), and noted that the vet had said bunnies were high risk and the odds of surviving the anesthetic weren't worth the risk.
I wanted a second opinion. I took Pipp to Dr. Jack-- and in February, she was finally given her 'little girl' status.I had told my friend that I thought it best Ijust keep the bunny andmake the decision to spay or not to spaymy own . She agreed.
I had a bunny.
So today may technically beher'foundya' dayas opposed to her 'gotcha' day, but we'll take it!
Happy 'Foundya' Day baby girl! :bunnieskiss:flowerskiss:I :heartbeat:my bunny!
(And look what you started!!) :nonono: :biggrin2:
sas :inlove:
It was three years ago today that a chance meeting on a downtown corner changed my life.
I walked past her at first.... She was sitting on the sidewalk munching on a leaf from askinny tree above her that survived in spite of exhaust fumes and pigeon droppings on what was probably the busiest corner in all of beautiful Vancouver, BC.
She had atiny cat collar around her neck with a not-so-tiny chain dog leash attached. It probably weighed more than her. She was just a little baby.
At the other end of the leashwerea twoblonde, blue-eyedstreet kids,a young,angelic-looking couple,hat-in-hand asking for spare change.
My friend Louise and I got about 10 feet past them... andsuddenly I wheeled around. I had to goback.
"I don't have spare change," I said, "buthow much would you want for that bunny?"
They surprised me by saying they'd part with her for what they'd had paid for her -- $40. It seemed they had bought 'him' when they had a place to stay, their situation had changed, and they had to go to court (I didn't ask) and couldn't take him in with them.... I agreed... the briefest tear sprang up in the girl's eyes, but they handed him over -- leash and leaf and all -- and took their $40.
"Now what?" I thought. I didn't want a bunny -- especially a plain-looking (sorry baby!) black rabbit that would probably grow up to be a bighulking thing, livingin a cage, let out to run and poop all over the house.
But what made me go back was two-fold. Foremost, with a bus whizzing by inches from her head (not that she seemed to mind) and the goopy maple leaf dinner in her mouth, I was very concerned with her welfare.
Secondly, Louise and I were on our way to another friend's party -- and I had just called her and heard the tragic news that while they were preparing for the bash, her dog had run out of the house and had been hit by a car and killed.
I was certainly willing to take care of the bunny for the rest of its life --I'm not one to support surprise gifts of live animals-- but I thought I'd take the bunny with us, and see if some comfort, or at least a distraction, could come from it.
We stopped at my house first. Walking there was uneventful. The bunny wasn't phased bynew people or by being carried.I'dput her down every few blocks and she'd grab a dandelion leaf and happily much away. At home, I put the bunny down in my spare room while I searched for a cat carrier, and started to warn Louise to watch her andnot let her go under the bed because we'd never get her out. But it was too late. Under the bed she went. I just started to freak... when she immediately toodled out the other side. This bunny was certainly not into hiding. She continued to explore every corner.
When we arrived at the party, I took the bunny out of the tiny carrier to stretch her legs -- and she immediately went exploring. I followed at the end of the leash. There were a hundred people in the house, music, the smell of cooking food, a big cat -- nothing phased this rabbit as she wended her way around the hordes of feet (with me sounding out 'don't step on the bunny' warnings (much to people's confusion) as we went.
Soon myfriend was introduced to the nameless little rabbit, and immediately burst into tears. She'd love to have the bunny.She even had ahutch in her backyard. I felt a tiny twinge of regret -- she was so fearless -- but also relief. I didn't want a rabbit.
My friend named her Pip -- a name inspired bya watermellon seed. (I added another 'p' to make it more unique -- like her).
She was my close friend, I kept in daily touch, I always asked about the bunny. I wasn't all that happy that she kept the bunny outside. She had her insideat night, Pippmade her own home by chewinga hole in the bathroom wall. But she couldn't catch her, and she believed in animals being in their natural state, so most of the time she was loose in her backyard.
She phoned once to tell me excitedly how the little bunny had taken a run at a large crow that landed in the yard and knocked it flat, stunning it with a kamikaze kick.
Another time she told howthe bunny -- still thought of as a boy in those days -- had gotten out of the yard through an open gate,trucked ondown the alley, found a house with an open door andwent hopping inside -- a bit of a shock for the neighbour, who had to godoor-to-door to find out where she lived.
It was a cute but worrisome story.
I asked her to please keep the bunny inside at least at night, and she agreed. She complained she couldn't catch her. She alsosaid she didn't think the bunny liked her very much.She went to the door to get the bunny in while I was still on the phone to her. I heard her open the door and start to call before going, 'Oh!'. The bunny had raced inside as soon as the door opened.So much for 'catching' her. Apparently she had often tried to get in the house.It was becoming clear they hadn't bonded AND that thebunny didn't like living outside.
My friend decided to spend December in Hawaii, and asked if I could bunnysit.
"Of course!"
On the designated day, she appeared at my door with the bunny in abig dog crate. She said she was late because it took awhile to catch her. And off she went to Hawaii.
I was surprised (and pleased) to see the rabbit hadn't grown, at least not much.I didn't know about 'dwarfs', or at least hadn'tthought about it. I put the crate in my room and opened the door. I think this time it took a few minutes before she came out, and she did so warily. But within minutesshe was back to the fearless little creature I had known. I didn't try to pet her or pick her up.Her life with my friend had been akin to a wild bunny, I expected her to remain that way.
But on her second or third day with me, much to my surprise, she jumped on my lapand began licking me.From that point on, shesnuggledlikeit was the most natural thing. I didn't know it then, but she had picked meas her mate. (I think it was a close call between me and the cat).
When my friend returned from Hawaii, I asked for shared custody. But when she came to pick herup, Pipp took one look at her and ran. She had never done that with anybody before. She'd usually run towards people, not away from them. That bunny hated my friend! :yuck (And my friend knew it).:biggrin2:
Towards the end of January, my friend took her to the vet for a medical issue that escapes me now -- maybe a scratched eye from an altercation with the cat. (The cat pled self-defence and won the case).
Thatvet confirmed Pipp was a boy.:shock:
I had done the research andwanted to get 'him' neutered. My friend wanted him kept in his 'natural state' (similar to her 'freedom in the backyard philosophy), and noted that the vet had said bunnies were high risk and the odds of surviving the anesthetic weren't worth the risk.
I wanted a second opinion. I took Pipp to Dr. Jack-- and in February, she was finally given her 'little girl' status.I had told my friend that I thought it best Ijust keep the bunny andmake the decision to spay or not to spaymy own . She agreed.
I had a bunny.
So today may technically beher'foundya' dayas opposed to her 'gotcha' day, but we'll take it!
Happy 'Foundya' Day baby girl! :bunnieskiss:flowerskiss:I :heartbeat:my bunny!
(And look what you started!!) :nonono: :biggrin2:
sas :inlove:
