I went missing there for a bit…

Actually, I wasn’t missing; I was nursing a sick bunny. Poor Oreo got very lethargic and just wasn’t eating much or doing anything. At first I dismissed it as nothing, maybe the fresh greens of the day before didn’t sit well. Day 2 I thought maybe it was the weather. It literally rained for an entire week. I don’t know about anyone else, but a week of rain makes me lethargic, too. By the 3rd day, I knew something wasn’t right, so I did a little investigating on the internet. What I saw wasn’t good. Bunnies can get GI issues that can kill them and Oreo was starting to have some of these issues. I called the vet and had to make an emergency appointment (they’re bunny doctor was booked all week) and rushed right down, beating myself up. Hadn’t I done everything right for my fluffy little friend? Where had I gone wrong…?

After a talk with the vet, I realized a lot of things…

I hadn’t done anything wrong. I told her everything in Oreo’s diet. When I eat salad, I make sure I share the carrots and I only eat Romaine lettuce. I know not to give iceberg lettuce to a rodent because it gives them the runs. I give lots of timothy hay, timothy pellets, dried fruit treats and other bunny approved treats. She assured me I was giving the correct diet. Bunnies just sometimes get a sluggish gut. I also learned Oreo weighs a pound, is still a baby, more than likely a mix of dwarf and regular rabbit (small ears like a dwarf, but the face is regular rabbit) and… Oreo is a boy… Actually, I’m not upset about that, just surprised. I never saw any balls, so I assumed female. No wonder… When the vet showed me (Oreo did not like having his balls handled), she had to dig under a lot of fur and folds to show me.

So I had a lot of work to do the past how many days… I had a special supplement powder I had to mix up and syringe feed to my little friend several times a day. It looked like goose shit (same color, too) and smelled bad. He fought me on that and we both wore a lot of it. I also had to give gas drops and another med to promote gut movement. He wouldn’t take the pain med at all. It’s not easy syringe feeding a bunny or giving meds the same way. And I had to get him to try and exercise. Thankfully, I have a galley kitchen, so I was able to block off the entrance and let him hop free. But I still had to give incentive to move… I goosed him in his little cotton tail!

It wasn’t very convenient… The dogs were able to keep out of the kitchen, but cats can always find a way. It was hard to keep them out of the kitchen despite my blocking the entrance with tall objects. I had been toying with the idea of buying a used playpen to get exercise. I was lucky enough to find one in the paper for $30 that’s in great shape! He seems to like it and enjoys having meet and greets with the dogs and cats through the mesh as much as the other animals do! And you’ll be happy (I hope) to know that Oreo is back to his old crazy bunny self!

Thankfully, Oreo gave me a good excuse to get out of that party I was invited to that I didn’t want to attend… When I explained what happened and that I had to feed him several times a day with a syringe, I was told it was all good, she understood what it was like to have to take care of a sick animal. Really…?! I seriously doubt that…

Several months ago, my cat, Sebastian, started experiencing blockages in his bladder. Kind of the feline equivalent of kidney stones. After 2 blockages and a catheterization, he got blocked again (all this in the span of about a week). I had to rush him to the vet, which is 30 minutes away, in a snowstorm for emergency PU surgery. In a nutshell, a cat’s urethra gets very narrow through the penis (which explains how it can easily block). The surgery requires removing the penis (and balls, the poor guy) and rerouting the urethra lower and stitching it fast to the abdominal wall. So, more or less, they gave my cat gender reassignment surgery, in a way. It was a mess… Sebastian was on so many meds and I got bit a lot before finally getting a pill shooter from the vet. He was constantly high on the liquid pain killer and wasn’t eating. He had to stay confined because he couldn’t control the new urethra yet and would just pee all over. Besides, it was safer to keep him from the other animals… Every day, I had to change pads because they were full of pee and blood and once a day I had to wash and put KY Jelly on “Frankencrotch”. No shit, his crotch looked like Frankenstein, all stitched together… I had to use dry shampoo to wash his pissed up fur and when the stitches came out, I had to give him a bath in baby shampoo because he was so gross. He also needs special prescription food that’s very expensive (and took me forever to find a brand he liked). The only good thing is that the surgery stressed his heart enough to detect a previously undiagnosed issue. He now takes heart meds every day and is much better. But it was a little over 3 weeks of living hell. I don’t think she knows what it’s really like to take care of a sick animal…

In any case, my not wanting to go to her parties has been going on for years…

Every time I attend, she ends up ignoring me, even if no one else has arrived yet. Sometimes she behaves as if she’s annoyed that I’m there (which makes you wonder why I’m invited). I honestly think the only reason I get invited is because, every time, she asks me to make deviled eggs because I “make the best deviled eggs”. It’s not like she doesn’t know how I make them, do it yourself! I’m beginning to think she looks at me and just sees a giant deviled egg…

Several years ago, I was at said friend’s home with another of our friends (before she passed away from cancer) having a girls’ night. This was shortly after my birthday, which is why I think we had gotten together… In any case, I was going through a very rough period in my life and was feeling down and very insecure. I needed to talk about it, get some advice I desperately needed. But instead, my friend looked me right in the face and, in a matter-of-fact tone, told me, “You know, ever since you turned ___, you’ve turned into a crabby old bitch.” Um… excuse me?! Did my friend seriously just come out and tell me I was a crabby old bitch?!

This is nothing new…

Years ago, she had asked me to go with her to the hospital because her daughter was having a mental moment and had to go to the psych unit. I guess that, because I’m bipolar, I would understand or be sympathetic. I don’t know what she thought… And so I went. Let me tell you, it’s not a short process. You will sit there all day, waiting to find out if your loved one is being admitted or not. And so I did… I sat there over 8 hours with my “friend” and the entire time, she was messaging people she played an online game with that she didn’t know in real life about the situation and telling me how wonderful and supportive these people were. By the time I left, I’d seriously had it… I ran into her sister in the parking lot and was asked what was wrong (she knew I was pissed). Needless to say, her sister was pissed as well that my “friend” was so unappreciative. A few days later, said friend texted me to thank me. Apparently a family member flipped out on her for not appreciating me being there for her. But I didn’t care… Her thank you meant nothing to me at that point…

Now, I’m a firm believer that cutting out negative people from your life may not be the best idea, depending on the circumstance. You don’t know if that person is negative because they’re crying out for help and it’s their only way to show it or if they’re truly just negative because that’s just how they are and it’s without reason.

But toxic people… like my so-called “friend… That’s a different story. People who are selfish, unappreciative, use you for their own purposes (whatever they may be), aren’t there for you like you are for them and just treat you like shit in general… they just have to go. I do a good enough job on my own of feeling like I’m not worth anything. I don’t need help…

So I’ve decided… Tranquility in my life is more important to me. If that means I’ll end up with no friends, so be it. I need to take care of me first. And that feels pretty good…