Monthly Archives: January 2011

SAD HERE TODAY

You may have heard about PD’s little buddy, Broken Foot here or on my facebook page.

Early this past summer he called me outside to see a bunny in our backyard.  There I saw this little guy.  He had some trouble hopping and we decided that his right back paw had been broken at some time and never healed correctly. It’s not obvious in this photo but he also had part of his left ear missing.  Such a lot of turmoil he must have endured in his short little life.

Over the course of the summer, PD would throw carrots to him from a safe distance and we would watch him nibble them.  After a couple of weeks, he would show up several times during the day.  PD began keeping carrots in a plastic container just for the bunny and would shake them when he would go outside and after a time, the bunny would come close to the house for his daily treats.  PD started to call him Broken Foot.  As time went on, Broken Foot would come closer and closer until we could sit at our picnic table and he would merrily chomp down his treats a few feet away,  not afraid at all.

Neighborhood cats made us nervous a lot of the time.  There were two that we’d see now and then and were never sure if they were strays or if they belonged to someone.  A certain black one would show up at night and when we would see Broken Foot the next day we would feel relief, knowing that he had avoided a tangle with the cat.

Then one day another bunny showed up in our yard. Shortly after it became commonplace to see this bunny and Broken Foot playing together.  We decided it was a she and that she was BF’s girlfriend.  She was not as fearless and never came so close for carrots.

Nature being what it is,  a short time passed and PD called me out one day to show me a little nest covered with grass and bunny fur with five teeny tiny bunnies nestled inside.  PD had very nearly run over it with the lawn mower.  We were both excited for the Foot family and looked forward to watching them grow.  And we felt honored that they chose the relative safety of our yard to raise a family.

Sadly, the next day PD buried what was left of the babies after a cat had found the nest.  We grieved for Broken Foot and his Lady.

Time went on and Broken Foot grew to the size you see here.

Then late in October, Broken Foot didn’t show up and for two weeks, PD and I nervously watched along the road in front of our house expecting to see a little brown mound, figuring that he’d maybe run in front of a passing car.  We would see the Lady from time to time but she would be alone.

Then one cold snowy night, PD was looking out the back door and I was busy. I heard him rustling around and then I heard the door close.  I went to investigate and I found PD in the yard, with carrots welcoming Broken Foot back.  There was pure joy in his voice and I could tell how happy he was to see him.

BF took up residence first under the utility shed in the back yard.  PD would make sure the entrance to his hole was clear of snow and ice.  Lately with the cold, cold temperatures, he’s been living under our back porch.

Today when I came home from work, PD greeted me with the sad news that he’d found Broken Foot’s broken little body under our porch when he was putting a sled away that we’d decorated for Christmas with a wreath and bow.  He said it was obvious that he’d tangled with a cat, finally.  And lost.  He buried him in a special place.

You were a tough little bunny and you found a place in our hearts.  I hope there are no kitties where you are now.  XO

 

 

NEW YEAR THOUGHTS

For me, the start of a new year always involves some level of self-examination.  My intention is to examine my conscience and determine where there is room for improvement.  I intend to take a look at my experiences through the past year,  my victories and my struggles.  Ideally, I would build on what worked and put some strategies in place to help avoid the inevitable rough spots in the future.  In years past, this exercise usually amounts to nothing more than a quick debate in my head about whether or not to bother making resolutions.  The typical ones come up… Eat healthier, exercise more, stop procrastinating and quit smoking.  I’ve made those year after year and something in me just refuses to take the list seriously. The procrastinator in me believes that I will take those things more seriously next year.  I won’t kid you into believing that this year will be any different. I should add stop being stubborn to the list.  But that would add more pressure and just one more thing to put off for another day…

There’s also the outward examination.  I look in the mirror.  This exercise is becoming more painful as time passes.  I see the beginnings of wrink (ok, who am I kidding?)  I see the wrinkles deepening around my eyes and mouth . The gray hair taking over and the results of Mr. Gravity wreaking havoc on the rest of me.  The freckles on the backs of my hands aren’t freckles anymore (how does that happen?)  It takes me a little longer to bound out of bed in the morning and I don’t run up and down the steps as I always have. “Things” aren’t so firm and toned.  My skin requires constant hydrating to prevent it from taking on alligator characteristics… I have to constantly remind myself to stand up straight. It’s wearing me out!

Yeah, it’s bleak.  And if you’re behind me in age, I apologize if I’m scaring you to death.  But it’s a fact of life and it is frightening and I’m smack-dab in the middle of a panic.  I see so many women my age who seem to be just fine with where they are in life.  Of course, they’ve dyed the gray away in their hair.  Maybe they go to the gym faithfully.  Maybe they’ve had or are contemplating tummy-tucks and some facial reconstruction.  Maybe they’ve already experienced my panic and chose to take steps to fix things. Maybe they just don’t care.

The experiences my mom has endured this past year has forced me to look at my own stuff in a way I never have.  When I look at her, I see me in the future and I get panicky. I don’t wanna be frail.  I don’t wanna depend on other people to do things for me.  I don’t want to become bitter.  I don’t want to become bitter.  More than anything I don’t want to become bitter.

This might be the year that I change things.  Time is going to pass no matter what.  Aging is inevitable.  We’re born, we live, we die. But I don’t want to become bitter.

Let me say that I hate this post. It’s not what I wanted to say but I’m trying to work through this.  It’s giving me a hard time and I can’t hold it in.