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August 31, 2008
A Perfect Bunny
Grab a kleenex before you read this amazing story. You just might need it. Thanks, Pamela!
My boy, Hamilton, is a 9 pound Californian bunny (a breed horribly referred to by the folks in 4-H as a "meat pen" rabbit) who was abandoned in a park in Hamilton County, Ohio and found near death, after having been mauled by a predator - presumably a dog. He was rushed into the care of the Buckeye HRS, in Cleveland, and spent nearly a year in recovery. The year included surgery, stitches for the simple wounds and care for recurring, serious eye infections. Both of Hamilton's eyes had been damaged during the attack and it was estimated that he had 25% vision in his left eye and maybe as much as 80% in his right eye. Frightening numbers if you are a "prey" animal with an intimate understanding of what it means to flee for your life.
Hamilton came into my life because of Thump. Thump was a girl in the market for a boy. I took her up to the Columbus HRS Chapter Manager's home where several boys from all around the state had come to meet her. (Thump was a gorgeous 9.5 pound New England Spot mix so it is no wonder that she had so many suitors.) Thump was polite to all the boys, greeting them with a careful sniff and then dropping her head and awaiting their response. Some of the boys were uninterested or afraid. Others were equally polite but, overall, there was no standout. Without exception, all of these boys were, by the way, beautiful buns - glossy, healthy, perfect in every way. I was especially hopeful regarding a black boy with white markings, but Thump indicated only her standard polite response. All of the present, hopeful, bunny fosterers had begun to discuss the idea of just choosing one and "seeing how it went"... and then came Hamilton. He was tattered, scarred, still recovering from his most recent surgery and swinging his head around a bit wildly in order to see the new room in which he had suddenly found himself... and then he saw Thump. I swear, it was a Disney movie. Everyone in the room could practically hear the bluebirds singing and the Disney theme music swelling up out of nowhere. The two buns saw one another, hopped together, sniffed, she put her head down and he licked her, he put his head down and she licked him and then they flopped down beside one another. The humans were all stunned because, really, how often does that happen. Just to be on the safe side, I did keep them apart and "date" them a few more times but after a week they simply refused to be parted and the deal was done. True love.
Hamilton and Thump lived at the office of our business where there was a great deal of activity all day long. Initially, this was hard on Hamilton and he spent most of the day hiding but within a couple of weeks, he found that if he stuck with Thump, who insisted on being in the middle of everything, he would be safe. For about a year, all was well.
When my husband and I travelled, the office staff would watch the buns. They were conscientious about feeding, watching the buns' appetites, minding the litterboxes and the like but during one business trip, they missed the fact that Hamilton's left eye had begun to swell. By the time I got home, it was an acute problem and I rushed him to an emergency vet in Cincinnati, who immediately put him on antibiotics, eye drops, something for pain (so he would continue to eat) and referred me to the veterinary opthamologist at Ohio State in Columbus. Monday morning started with a phone call and an hour later I was in my car with Hamilton and Thump. (Hamilton hated to go anywhere without her and I wanted him as comfortable as possible.) The opthamologist determined that the eye would not recover and that there was a risk of the infection travelling to the brain. The eye had to be removed as soon as possible. Arrangements were made for surgery in a couple of days and I took both buns home.
When I returned on Wednesday night, Karalee Curry, the Columbus HRS Chapter Manager, kindly took both Hamilton and me in so that we could be at the University first thing in the morning. Hamilton and I came without Thump, which made both buns nervous but was necessary under the circumstances. Hamilton spent the morning in surgery with the veterinary opthamologist, an exotics surgeon, a veterinary anesthesiologist and, as it was described to me, every exotics student at OSU - because they never get rabbits for this type of surgery. [Because of the rarity of Hamilton's procedure and, therefore, its value as a teaching opportunity, OSU charged me about 20% of what they commonly charge for the same surgery in a dog. This is one of the values in taking your bun to a teaching institution and a question well worth asking when they are going over pricing with you. It saved me, literally, $4,000.] Amazingly, Hamilton was returned to me to be taken home that night because OSU has found that bonded buns do much better when they are with their partners and because buns, in general, do not do as well in places that are filled with the smells and sounds of unfamiliar predators. So, there I was with a groggy (from the anesthesia), bloody bunny and instructions to check him and give him pain medicine every two hours and antibiotics every four hours. I rushed my boy home and arrived back in the offices, at 10PM, to be greeted by Thump who, my staff had informed me, had been worrying all day, refusing to eat and rushing to the door each time it opened.
I was initially concerned that the blood, stitches and strange smells all over Hamilton would put Thump off or cause her to nip at him but she didn't think twice. When I took Hamilton out of the carrier, she rushed to him, sniffed him all over and then hopped slowly beside him while he made his way the couple of feet to his favorite spot. Once there she started to groom him and sat, pointedly, between him and me. When I returned, two hours later, Hamilton was sparkling clean and Thump was pressed tightly against his left, blind side. She stayed that way for weeks while he recovered. Every time I picked Hamilton up to check him and give him his meds, Thump would stand up on her back feet, front paws on my knee, and crane her head up, carefully watching my every move, to make sure her boy was safe. As Hamilton started to explore his surroundings, Thump stayed always on his left. When I finally opened up "the big room," a 40' x 100' dance hall on the upper floor of our building immediately adjoining the offices, Thump stayed with Hamilton as he carefully patrolled the perimeter of this huge new space. During thunderstorms, Thump invariably rushed to Hamilton's side as he hunkered down and worried about the huge noise shaking the floor beneath him. It was an amazing thing to witness and a testament to how little we humans really understand about the richness and depth of the relationships between members of other species.
Thump wasn't the only one to adjust to the changes in Hamilton's health. His regular vet, in Cincinnati, has taken photos and carefully monitors the health of Hamilton's right eye. She also made sure to get better informed on eye health related issues which might apply to Hamilton's specific condition.
My staff and family joined me in making a number of changes in the way we handle Hamilton. First of all, because his remaining eye is compromised and we can't really ask him exactly how much, we make the assumption that he can't really see us when we come into the room. There is no padding into the room in socks if Hamilton, who now lives at home, is there. I make noise when I come into the room and talk virtually all of the time I am there, so he will be clear on where I am. When I am going to touch him, I talk all of the way up to him, especially while I am leaning over him (so that he can hear my voice getting closer) and reach down on his sighted side making sure he sees my hand. I always pet him first on his sighted side. If his sighted side is not available I blow a little bit of breath (softly) on him so that, again, he knows I am right there. I never just snatch him up even if it means having to re-approach him a number of times before he lets me capture him. There is one place, the castle my husband built for he and Thump, where I never capture him unless his life could depend upon it (ie. tornado siren is going off) because I believe that in his vulnerable state, since he cannot depend upon speed for evasion, he needs to have something that makes him feel completely safe. Surprisingly, he rarely actually uses this "out" and only occasionally takes me on a tour of his room prior to allowing himself to be captured. I, of course, check his right eye daily.
I also found that moving things in his room is a bad idea. Once something is set, best leave it that way because if he does have a sudden fright, he is more likely to run headlong into new or moved items. The other big thing is one I discovered by accident. Thump went through a digging phase where she would dig out one of the extra large litterboxes and leave its contents all over the floor. In order to contain this problem, I brought home a huge box from work (about half the size of a refrigerator), cut off the top and added some access holes (Thump later added two more) and put two extra large litterboxes in it filled with litter and hay. Thump was thrilled but Hamilton basically moved in. He loves this smaller, predictable, comfortable space. He can be found there most of the time lounging happily.
The one thing I hadn't counted on in Hamilton's care was the loss of Thump which happened suddenly one night just two hours after she and I had been playing ball and she had been happily frolicking around their room. Hamilton was devastated. He barely nibbled at his food, wouldn't come out of his box and became frightened of every slightly unusual sound. Normally, we HRS folk are told (and I had previously learned once the hard way) to wait a reasonable amount of time before trying to re-bond a bunny because grieving buns, understandably, have bonding issues. I decided this wasn't an option for Hamilton due to his sight limitations. The world was too big and too frightening for him to be alone. So, back we went to Karalee's, this time to meet six beautiful girls. My dejected boy was polite to all but the two that ignored him didn't get a second sniff. Two others got a bit of an extra look but were also fairly quickly eliminated. The final two were both reasonable prospects. Both showed some interest in him and he groomed one of them, Madalynn, a few times. We took her home and hoped we could get a bond. Madalynn is a great deal like Thump, outgoing, precocious, curious, brave and social - a good match for Hamilton and, in about three weeks time, he agreed too and they were bonded. It has to be said that Hamilton doesn't relate to Madalynn in the same way he did to Thump. He is a bit more reserved with her, but she makes up for it by absolutely worshipping him. Madalynn's world positively revolves around Hamilton - which works for him. Most importantly, he is happy again. Relaxed. Calm. Content.
One eye, tattered ear, scars on his back and tummy - our bunny boy, now nine years old and perfect in every way. Thump was right.
Posted by Sue at August 31, 2008 3:03 PM