I adopted my rabbits (two sisters) from a friend of a friend, and I took them home today.
In the car – stuffed into the same hot pink and black crate that sat on my boyfriend's lap – the two stared out through the wire door, wondering and fearful. Occasionally scratching at the plastic.
We set them in a pop-up playpen their previous owner provided, and they sat near each other, still breathing heavily.
Their noses moved at two hundred twitches a minute, and their eyes were buggy but not too terrified.
We stroked their heads softly, cooing little comforting words they wouldn't understand as anything but hopefully unintimidating tones.
I surrounded them with familiar objects so that they would feel less dislocated.
I wondered if their stress was worsened by these familiarities in such an incoherent situation. The familiar food bowl and the smell of their small bed was a tiny object trying to conceal the entire trauma of a change in owner and location.
The two rabbits huddled close to each other: nudging their faces together, squeezing their bodies into the same plastic igloo, sharing the large litter box.
And in a few hours, their nose twitches slowed to a normal rate and they actively explored their new space.
Even though their lives had changed in a matter of minutes, they re-acclimated rather quickly because they still had each other for consistent support.
I realized that the rabbit sisters are a mirror of my own sister and I.
Despite turmoil – the shifting background and family structure and job prospects and emotions and futures – we were determined to continue to grow together when things felt like they were falling apart.
The rabbit sisters have lost their mom, and I don't know the levels of attachment they felt for her, but I hope I can offer them enough love and care to make up for it. Though if it's anything like my own experience with loss, I don't think I could expect to ever replace any mother.
I'm the mother of two lovely little lady rabbits I'm naming Esther and Astrid, and I'm already sad that my own mother isn't here to see me care for them. When I think of mothering, of course I think about emulating my mother. She would be so proud of me for getting a full-time job, for moving in with my boyfriend, for adopting rabbits like I've always wanted to do. I'm so much closer to the independent adult she raised me to be, and she's missing it and I'm missing her.
But I think being here to love two small rabbit sisters will help me feel like a family again.
My family of 4, was 4. Then 3.
My chosen family of 2, was 2. Now 4.
My family was under the same roof: my mother, my father, my sister, and I.
I moved away. My sister stayed. My mother died. My father stayed. Our family dog died. I stayed away.
97 miles away from that same first roof, my alternative family is my boyfriend, my pet rabbits, and I, and we are under a new roof. A new start.
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