Sunday, March 17, 2013


So, I've been somewhat secluded lately.  I've been feeling terribly sad today, as I have been off and on for months.  I think the term is "caregiver fatigue."

I am directly responsible for the lives of 6 mammals (Geraldine and Mr. Bunnyman, who are rabbits, Boris and Vincent, who are rats, Gypsy, who is a money pit shaped like a cat, and Trixie, who is a barnacle shaped like a poodle), plus myself.  It used to be 7, but Ingrid the rat died on Monday, and I saw it coming a few days before that.  She had mammary tumors, as almost all female rats do, and they had suddenly surged in size after laying meek and dormant for several months. She was just shy of two years old.

Goodbye, my darling.
She came to work with me on Monday.  I didn't want her to be alone if she had to check out.  Upon arriving at work, I discovered that Geraldine's eye infection (that I had been treating diligently 3 times a day for two weeks and thought was defeated) had returned with a vengeance.  After teaching, I had to take her to the vet.  I took Ingrid home, so she wouldn't have to wait in the car, and zipped off only to find that the infection had blossomed into a corneal ulcer, which is rather painful and hard to heal.  Fantastic.

I took Ger home, drugged her up (fyi, giving a rabbit oral medications is far harder than it might seem.  The edge of their mouth is hard to find, and they bury their faces in their dewlaps in protest), and went home as fast as I could.  The Viking met me at the door, asking if there was anything he should be doing for Ingrid.  I peered into her cage.  Ingrid was pale and unmoving.

"Nothing.  She's gone."  I cradled my little friend.

She twitched.

Oh no.  She's not gone.

She waited for me to come home.  I held her and kissed her head.

I felt her leave.

In tears, I let Boris and Vincent see her, so they would understand why she was gone.  They poked and shoved her, trying to wake her up.  Vincent went into her cage and threw things.  Boris ran and hid in his sleeping box.

When she was cool, I wrapped her and put her into the shoebox in my freezer where I store all my rats until I have them cremated.  I nestled her next to Leena's body, and put the lid back on.

So that was Monday.

Tuesday I resumed my rabbit medicating schedule.  Once at 8am, once at 4pm, once at 11pm.  Yes, I have to drive back to work every night.
I had a better sense of humor about all this a few days ago.  Geraldine is still unenthusiastic.

Saturday, I took Geraldine back for a recheck.  The ulcer is not gone.  We try a different eyedrop, which only requires two doses per day.

Today, she won't take her oral medication.  She leaps out of my grip twice.  She thumps her feet as she runs away from me.  It's a bunny "go to hell."  In tears, I give her the eyedrops and go home.

I know this is my superpower.  I'm just so fucking tired.

Trixie is pacing around the living room, licking her lips and whining.  I am not doing expressly dog-related things, and she is anxious.  Never mind that we just walked around the neighborhood for an hour.

Gypsy is purring with his mouth open.  He has seasonal allergies, and thinks it's time for second dinner.  He peed on the carpet last night, as if I didn't have enough issues to deal with.

I have $40 in my checking account, and I have to buy greens and hay for the rabbits tomorrow.  Payday is not until Wednesday, and I have no idea when reimbursement day is.

Trixie's kibble bin is very close to being empty.

I still don't have new work shoes.

I still haven't seen doctors for any of MY health issues.

I am out of ADD meds.





  1. (((HUGS))) Just that, so many hugs to you.

    1. Thank you. It's been a long, long month.

  2. Rest in peace Ingrid :(
    I hope you feel better soon!

    1. Thank you. It helps to vomit it all out onto the computer screen. I'm already 30% better.

  3. Sorry little mousie. :( I have my fingers crossed for you and yours.

    1. Thanks, I'll take all the crossed fingers I can get.

  4. I am very sorry to hear things still aren't looking up for you =(
    My condolences on the loss of Ingrid.
    I'll still keep hoping that things will look up for you and your critters.

    1. When it rains, it pours, eh? Oh well. I love them. I'll take the bad with the good.