Rabbit, Dog, Horse

Abbey's future mama picked us up yesterday morning to go to dog training class together. I was planning on perfecting my role as spectator and cheering section but the trainer has no problem delegating and I was handed a leash and told to work with Lucky; a chocolate brown, compact version of a dachshund; all wagging tail and a true believer in humans being a direct source of good things.
Lucky knows a lot more than I do. The class was working on going from having their dogs "come" and "sit" in front of them to "finish", with the dogs at our sides , sitting in "heel" position. Using "watch me" commands, and leading with a treat-filled hand signal out to the side, circle and back in, is how this is taught. Lucky knew this one and that he would be rewarded at the end of it. Imagine a chocolate brown hermit crab shuffle, his eyes never leaving my face, as his wiggly butt swiveled from front and center to ankle ready position. A turn-key dog.
Abbey did well with Barbara, ending with our "meet and greet" manners exercise when dog owners stop to chat and dogs sit politely until told otherwise. We pretended to ask "can you hold my dog a moment while I go over there to get something?" and each took turns working two dogs, who were still expected to behave as if nothing was happening. Barbara spent some time with Abbey in one hand and another dog in the other. This was the perfect practice run for our after class activity which was to return home and continue acquainting Abbey with Barbara's dog, Bella.
Barbara and I took Bella and Abbey for a short walk then had lunch in her garden, with Abbey on leash and Bella sniffing around. Abbey was a good girl, except for one attempt at a snap, which was useful as an opportunity to correct her. I set up a doggie pen so that Abbey could stay there and acclimate, but not endanger Bella and I left them to it. Barbara was invited to return Abbey to me at the end of the day and to stay for dinner with us.
The Artistic One had volunteered to plan a menu and cook, which is always a promise of something tasty. Unfortunately he has no problem delegating either. I peeled and diced a million veggies, each of which was cooked separately to perfection, before combining for the final phase of seasoning. (Is butter a seasoning?) We had cantaloupe, rabbit in red wine and rabbit roasted in the oven. The veggies were divine. One guest asked for grated cheese and so we all tried adding that to the flavor bouquet as well.
There was a cheese plate and then tiramisu topped with fresh raspberries and blueberries that I had intoxicated with a sweet red wine and brown sugar.
Barbara had brought home a very tired Abbey. She had managed both dogs at her home very well. She had worked with Abbey, side by side with Bella, without the pen and managed to take a rest with one dog sleeping on each side of the bed. I've had a good vibe from Barbara since our very first meeting. What I learned yesterday in our dinner table conversation was that her career was as a psychiatric nurse. Great qualifications for staying calm and handling unexpected situations.
This morning was hard. We had gone to bed after midnight after copious amounts of food, wine and good company. If I had no dog to take for a walk and no riding lesson scheduled I think I might have lingered between the sheets. Not to be. Luckily, Abbey lets me have my coffee before we go out. I warmed up to the rhythm and didn't listen to my lazy suggestion to self that a foreshortened circuit would be O.K. just this once.
At the stables by 9'ish, I rode a large bay quarter horse called Mac. He's a beauty with a huge stride and a noble head. It was the start of a new session so I had imagined there would be more people than usual in the class, which would allow me to take it easy. My name was the only one on the board so I ended up in a private lesson. Warm up was a struggle but we ended up working through a low level dressage test quite respectably, for a horse and rider who had never met before today.
Lunch was a no-brainer. Hurray for left overs. The Artistic One worked on a new water color this morning and is now taking a nap. I am trying to catch up with all the blog posts that I haven't had time to read. I am on the cusp of attaining my one hundredth follower. There are so many kind and interesting people out in the blogosphere. Who would have thought that so many would show an interest in my search for pony-dom?
I don't write as much as I did in the beginning. For a while this blog was a bit of a lifeline; an exploration and affirmation of identity that I had lost sight of; A crutch, a retreat and a safety valve. Abbey has been a part of my journey back onto a path that once again feels as if it might lead somewhere worthwhile. I'm  getting my life back. I'll try not to lose sight of it ever again.

One Hit, One Miss

How hard can it be to keep a hair appointment on a Saturday morning?

Abbey and I had a lovely walk this morning, before the heat took hold of the day. Circuiting the community park, the baseball coaches were doing extra watering and dressing of the field, before the kids showed up to play. There were a few other walkers, as well as the Tai Chi Group and the "Exercise with BIG Swords" Group, on the tennis courts, complete with Chinese music coming from a tinny sounding cassette player/radio that had seen better days, but fit the age group perfectly. Some construction workers were hammering noisily away on a new project right next door to a residential nursing home, at 7 am on a weekend. I hoped, for their sakes, that the patients had less than acute hearing.

Dog duties taken care of, I still had time to drive up the canyon in search of a fresh supply of Bay leaves, to dry and then use as a seasoning. The bay trees start a little higher past the reservoir and then it's just a question of finding a safe place to pull over, not slip down the hill and avoid coming in contact with poison oak.

As I turned out of our street onto the canyon road I saw a small baby bunny off to the side of the main road. There is lushly irrigated lawn on one side, in front of a row of townhouses, and the dry scrubby hillside, interspersed with homes, rises up on the other. The temptation is obvious. I slowed to make sure bunny wouldn't panic and run the wrong way and end up under my wheels. He moved aside but didn't scoot away up the hill, as I'd hoped. 

Ten minutes later, my little car pungent with a bouquet of fresh bay leaves, I rounded the bend on the way back down to see a cluster of worried, spandex-clad cyclists who had halted their ride to see to the bunny. One man had poured some water on the ground next to the baby, but they were obviously at a loss as to what they could do next. They don't include bunny rescue pockets in the aerodynamics of those brightly colored clothes.

The cyclists were thrilled when I stopped and scooped up the little one. His nose was bloody but his limbs were all functioning. He even wriggled a bit in my hands. I thought he might have a chance after all. I gave them my card so that they could call to find out the outcome. My intention was to get him to Animal Services in the town where I was to get my hair cut. The shelter there has a wild life section.

A quick detour back to my house to equip a kitten sized pet carrier, (one I bought when I was raising Sparkles the kitten), with some dry grass for a nest and to dig out a mini baby bottle and get some water into his little mouth, which he took voluntarily. We climbed into the car and headed north. 

My rising hopes were knocked back down as he started kicking wildly in what I assumed was a seizure. He had another one and then was still. When I arrived at my destination the light had gone from bunny's eyes, although he still looked so pretty, I had to pick him up to be sure. I think bunny had a concussion or brain swelling after being hit, or just tumbled at high speed whilst crossing the road. Now I have to break the news to the cyclists when they call, as I'm certain they will. 

A few seconds after sitting in the Salon chair, there was a huge crash outside. We went out to see what had happened. A car had pulled out without seeing another one coming and the second car had been seriously crunched. The driver of the car that was hit was a young woman and the airbag, which had certainly saved her from serious harm had hit her hard, as well as burning the skin on her wrists and arms. She was in tears and trying to catch her breath. We didn't want her to move, of course, but the car was smoking and looked like it was catching on fire. 

I understand that 911 (999 in U.K.) operators can talk and type at the same time, but I really had the impression that the person who answered my call was not immediately summoning help, as she kept asking me the colors of the two cars. I reiterated the need for ambulance and fire and she got the message. The young woman got out of her car and we pulled a chair out of the salon, onto the sidewalk for her to sit down on. She had me call her boss to explain why she was late for work and the police and other services showed up very quickly after that. I grabbed my camera so that she would have pictures to show her insurance company. She didn't have to be hospitalized but I'm sure she'll be sore for a few days. Both cars were eventually towed away and the street was reopened to traffic.

By 10:30 this morning I had a nicely refreshed hair cut and color and was wondering what the heck else the day could bring.

Bunny Good - Rocket Scientist

I don't know if it's because of the connotations of Easter or because I may get an emergency foster dog tomorrow (foreclosure foster) but I was thinking about the animal shelter and my last experience there; so enhanced by a real, if eccentric, person named Bunny Good - Rocket Scientist.
Years ago we expanded our business into a large outdoor yard by the train tracks. 50,000 sqft of not much but grass and hard-packed dirt and a light industrial zoning. We import antique roof-tiles and limestone and custom carve fireplaces and such, none of which has to be stored indoors. My main office was at home and I would meet clients by appointment at our stone yard.
The yard came to us with the added attraction of a couple of roving rabbits. There had been an old man living in a trailer and I always supposed that they were his. Somehow over the years word must have gotten out that this was some kind of bunny heaven. New rabbits would be glimpsed amongst the palettes nibbling grass or hopping around trying to hump one another. I was always surprised we didn't have a sudden explosion of bunnies, but we never had babies.
One day there was a lady with a large net wandering around. Her rabbit had escaped from her home on the other side of the railroad and she had tracked him to us. She tried several times to catch him and then brought me a bag of food and "passed the bunny", so to speak.
Now, our business was not big enough to use up all the space and so we also rented parking spaces for trucks, boats an old school bus and, for a while a caravan/trailer. The caravan became inhabited by the druggie-pimp son of the vehicle's owner and there was far too much "activity" there for a while. You don't learn anything for free, as we say.
Back to the rabbits. Quite a few of our renters would bring carrots and such to feed the rabbits. One of our most bohemian people who cared about the rabbits was a scrawny, semi-homeless woman who's hands were twisted with arthritis and who stored all her worldly goods in a green van that never moved. For a long time I thought her name was Bonny, but she corrected me and later showed me a letter that she had written signed Bunny Good-Rocket Scientist.
Bunny would show up on foot, clutching multiple brown grocery bags of who knew what. She would root around in her green van for hours and leave again with a large number of paper bags. She always brought something veggie for the rabbits and gave each new one a name.
Over time I learned that Bunny lived not too far from us; just across the freeway from our home. I always offered her a lift if I was headed home because her version of the five mile trip took hours of walking and changing buses several times. She lived behind an office building, by the Palo Alto Municipal Airport, under a blue-tarp construction in a corner of the parking lot.
So Bunny and I would chat as I kept the car windows discreetly lowered. (No good deed goes unpunished). She really was a Rocket Scientist, had worked at NASA, had been married too, although that's not a sure sign of a sane person. She was a little quirky, bordering on conspiracy theories and such, but harmless enough. The letter she showed me was to some local government agency, in defense of an iris plant that was blooming in the Baylands and scheduled for removal as a non-native species. She took me to see it one day. Her letter included a poem she had written and you just know she was a true thorn in the side of all bureaucracy.
As the four-footed bunnies in our lives grew older and diminished in number we got down to only one. Janeau was very striking, white with black spots. He became friendly as he matured and would eat from our hands. He also peed on my foot one day as I was showing some important clients around. Not just wet and squishy but stinky-boy pee. A sign of affection I am told.
Janeau had been with us for a decade and I didn't want him to be lonely. The local newspaper had run an article about a female rabbit and babies that had been abandoned at the Baylands and rescued by the Park Rangers and brought to the animal shelter. The babies were easy to rehome but Mummy-Bunny didn't have a bright future. Of course I went to see her and found out that Bunny Good was a regular visitor at the shelter too and was very keen to participate in matching me up with this rabbit.
Anyone who has ever adopted an animal knows that there is paper-work involved. In this case I was asked to fill out a description of my home and family as well as a full page explaining every minute of the proposed adoptee's daily routine.
I thought I knew how to work the system so I began with: early morning greeting, cleaning the cage, fresh feed, time for some affection, grooming and requisite ammounts of exercise and rest followed by more affection. I lied about where the bunny was to be in residence and did not disclore that she was destined to be a free-range rabbit.
I told the tale of my family of one husband, one daughter; realized that the dog was no-one's business but my own and made an appointment to collect Mummy-Bunny, after my "Screening Interview" the next day.
Bunny Good had someone lined up to lend me a temporary cage until everyone got acclimated and she gleefully met up with me at our appointed time outside the shelter the next day.
Oh My! The volunteer shelter-person was shocked that my husband was not with me to fetch Mummy-Bunny. She could not conceive of handing over an animal without also screening the new "Father Figure" entering into it's life.
I appoligize. I was unladylike. I reminded her that I could easily have gone to the local feed store and purchased a brand new bunny for less than they were charging me for "I left my Uterus in Palo Alto, Microchipped Miss Floppy Ears" and I believe I suggested she could have her bunny stuffed and mounted wherever she so wished. I was going to say "Bunniless, I departed", which is incorrect as I did leave with Bunny, just not the one I had planned on.
As this story drags on, I promise we are close to the punch line. Ms. Good had me drop her off in town and later that afternoon I received a phone call from the Shelter Director begging me to please accept both their appologies and Mummy-Bunny.
Ms. Good had demanded to see the Chief of Police, who I now know, has oversight of the shelter. She worked her relentless magic and he sorted out the officious officials at the animal shelter. Mummy-Bunny came to live with us and her new friend Janneau.
Footnote: Janneau outlived all the other bunnies. At the age of fourteen he was partially disabled and I researched the local vets to find one who knew rabbits. Late one warm Friday afternoon in August, after a full examination and much amazement at the over-all health and advanced age of my polka-dot rabbit, we decided that putting him to sleep was the most humane solution.
I carried the cardboard pet-carrier back to our workshop with the intention of laying him to rest where he had lived long and free. It was just me and Janneau as everyone had gone home for the day. I was composed, even stoic as I opened up the box to see that the vet had covered him with Marguerite Daisies. I bawled my eyes out over that crazy rabbit.