It’s just plain MEAN what whoever they were did to him. Let him loose in a country where Bunnies like him do not live wild, in the scorching heat of the Caribbean summer, in a neighbourhood where cats and iguanas are the pests, and in a subdivision where at least 15 dogs are walked twice a day. He must have belonged to someone not long ago – his collar is still on him. They probably saw him as another mouth to feed (and backside to walk behind) and left him in a field full of spanish needle. Meet Black Peter, the Rabbit.
Poor little Peter! If the dogs get him he will WISH for Mr. McGreggor’s pie!
The pups didn’t pick up the scent. The two dogs ahead of us hadn’t either. But why on earth would they be looking for the smell of some northern rabbit that they’ve never seen the likes of in these parts? But Juju watches his mama very closely and followed my eyes to what I was watching so intently. And went over to investigate himself. Lola still hasn’t seen him – she didn’t want to put her paws on the grass (brat).
Today can be hard for many people across the world remembering Mothers Day. The first Mothers Day after mom has passed on is usually one of pain and tears. The Mothers Day when you and your mom are not on speaking terms is also a very difficult one. Not to mention the day for the terminally ill mom who might not make it to her next Mothers Day. Fortunately my mom is alive and relatively well but this year I have glimpsed the fear of losing her twice. This year I was very grateful for her presence.
One set of mourners on Mothers Day that are often forgotten are women who have always wanted children but have yet to see that stage of life begin. I imagine it is particularly painful for those ladies well past the age where they can have children without going against everything in science.
There is a couple in my church who have been loving guides to many young people over the course of the years. They are about the age of my parents and generous with their time and understanding. They have never been able to have children. Every Mothers Day my heart goes out to the lady who has been such a gracious mother-figure to me. Today she turned out brave and beautiful – she’s actually still a stunner despite her years – because not only was she found childless on Mothers Day but this was also her first Mothers Day without her mom.
For women like myself who are still in childbearing years and unmarried, we get kind handshakes saying “soon enough” or “don’t worry, it will come.” Consolations that feel a bit like Valentines Day to the newly-jilted. For those who have never wanted to be mothers this is a source of annoyance. Why should we feel less of a woman because we’ve DECIDED not to go forth and multiply? But for those who have always wanted to be moms and seen year after year go by and no answer to this prayer, it is particularly painful.
This Mothers Day I had a kindness paid to me that brought tears to my eyes. I paid no attention to the accidental Happy Mothers Day greetings and I steeled myself against the “oh honey, one day”s. But a friend came over during the chaotic time of greeting in our church service and said “Happy Mothers Day my love”. I started the standard protest line and he shut me down – “You’ve got two dogs to mother don’t you?” I felt myself flush, grateful for being understood and appreciated for who I am and remembered with such gentleness. “Happy Mothers Day to Juju’s mom”.
I’ve come home just now after having spent much of the day lounging with my mom in her sofa (she didn’t want to leave the house – I tried!) to grateful jumps and a crate full of poop to clean up. Lola was given some ham yesterday and it hasn’t sat well with her. She doesn’t get a lot of pork in our house. As I bent unquestioningly to the task I reckoned, hell, I guess I am a mom.
Isn’t it amazing how two animals of the same breed and from the same parents can be so different?
Take Lola. She LOVES to be naked. Julius sees it as a violation of all things macho and canine – the core values he stands (and pees) for. Yesterday they were trimmed low low low (to the noyaz as a Caymanian would say). Ready for the Summer heat and to combat the insect infestation that comes with rainy season.
Take this morning’s walk…
Lola is all smiles and ready to go show off her haircut…
But Juju is like “MAMA WHYYYYYYY!!! ALL THE OTHER DOGS ARE GONNA LAUGH AT MEEEEEE!!!!!”
Lola prances along like it’s a catwalk… “See mama? See how the haircut makes me look like I’m smiling? Isn’t that funny? Cuz dog’s don’t smile right?”
She dances and pounces, chases other dogs and pulls to the end of her leash. “Mama try this angle! What about this one?! Aren’t I just too cute?!” (Julius – ” Expeditionist Brat”)
But not so my mortified Julius. He is determined to turn his back to me until I give in and take him inside to hide his shame. I’m lucky I got a shot of his face!
Don’t you love me? Why do you do this to me?
But turning your back has other disadvantages… and leaves nothing to the imagination.
Please don’t tell him! He’ll never speak to me again!
Further to my post yesterday, these are the qualifications that the successful (lucky) candidate will possess.
Now, for those of you who KNOW Julius, please allow me the time to clarify that I don’t want a psycho, possessive, cantankerous old fart who follows me everywhere I go, checks my phone and watches me sleep (and shower) with a sharp tendency towards violence. This song is definitely about Lola.
In the fresh morning air, just before what is considered a decent hour I had a visitor. A little white hen peered over my door frame and through my coffee steam. Gave me a good once over, looked me up and down, in my own house. The dogs were quiet, still sleepy, Lola on my lap and Julius spread out at my feet. They didn’t bat an eye. She was the colour of cold cream and just as cool, her stare unswerving and assessing. She moved from me, dismissive, to stare with fascination at first one dog and then the other, turning her head to the side to better capture them. Before today I would never have imagined that a hen cold be curious!
I could just hear her hennish thoughts – lucky animals, safely owned and fed, not having to scratch for a living. There was the wistfulness I have only ever seen in a married woman and mother looking into a single girl’s life – the freedom of one’s own thoughts before laundry and nappies and a husband takes over. In a hen. And then, as if to prove my thought true, in fluttered her Rooster, young and proud and a right pain in the ass, tormenting and squawking her out of our moment.
She fluttered off at full hen-speed with him pestering behind her tail. Following her with my sleepy eyes I caught a flash of white. A long anticipated one. A single, clean, pristine orchid bloom.
Smiling and grateful sat I, coffee in hand, writing about the Light as my morning glided on dressed flawlessly in white.