Could this be pathological?
She's done it again. I can hardly believe it. It's a scarce two weeks since she was at the Humane Society to adopt her sixth rabbit. So what? you say. I would too, if this rabbit was destined to be deposited in a rabbit hutch out in the back 40, but such is not, lamentably, the case. This rabbit, like its five predecessors (oh right, there were others but one of the really big dogs had a run-in with a truly aggressive dwarf male and the dog was the winner, and one big fluffy white lovable lump of a rabbit contracted some mysterious ailment which, despite the unstinting work of a veterinarian could not be saved) have their cagey abodes in none other than the living room of my daughter's house.
Well yes, it is her house, but it is also the house of her partner. Long-suffering Bruce, who time after time has threatened to leave, but hasn't yet. Is this some diabolical plot she has devised to force him to leave? I wonder, yet I somehow doubt it, because this is the original can't-live-without-a-man (any-man) woman, my daughter. And her daughter? Well, her daughter is long beyond wondering whether Mommy loves the animals more than she loves me. Angie has finally figured out that her mother needs the animals as much as they do her, but she does truly love her daughter - as long as her daughter behaves, keeps out of the way, isn't too dreadfully demanding of time and attention. All of which aside, our daughter does love her daughter. Just that she is so involved, so busy with the animals she may tend from time to time to forget that her daughter requires certain things. Not love, it's there in abundance, but things like a regular dental appointment (good thing the child is blessed with healthy genes) and more than one pair of good-fitting, pricy shoes.
How did I get off topic? Is that off topic? Perhaps, perhaps not. It is, however, all interwoven.
Our daughter loves, trusts and values the personalities of animals far above those of humans. Animals love unconditionally. This is no canard, despite its boringly constant citation as a truism. Where were we? Trust? Love? No, that's not the word I'm looking for here, rather it is judging. Animals are not judgemental. Maltreat them and they're still trusting, still loving, albeit perhaps a little more wary than before. I've yet to hear a dog intone: 'tsk-tsk'. And that's one big winning trait with our daughter.
What am I going on about? After all, she loves these animals, she goes out of her way for them, cannot spend her hard-earned wages fast enough to ensure their well being, be it veterinarian assistance or the priciest of foods, toys, accoutrements of any and all kinds. The house; let's go back to the house. This is not a large house, perhaps two thousand sqare feet on two stories. It started out as a very nice house, and still is, but when I first saw the house it appeared to be quite roomy, very comfortable. It threatens now to burst at the seams.
And the work, good grief the work involved in cleaning up after all these loving and lovable animals. From cage-cleaning daily to house-vacuuming daily, to setting out individual bowls of food for each and every one of these animals. This just in: aside from their usual animal-fare every one of these animals also is offered their very own bowl of chopped vegetables as a daily after-dinner treat. (Besides which, it's o-s0-healthy for them, so much so that even we indulge our two little dogs with salads of corn, green peas, red pepper, cauliflower, snow peas - and they love their veggies. Don't tell me you think our daughter gets this nonsense from us. It is true, though, that I often wonder where we went wrong. In retrospect I don't believe our parent-child relationship lacked love and emotional support, so why this overwhelming need for love and more love, unencumbered by human contact?) Since she lives in the countryside, there are fishers about so at night none of the dogs is able to go out to relieve itself unaccompanied. The result is that each and every time this becomes a group activity when all are ushered outdoors to do their duty. This is an unfenced one and a half acre property, and these animals are all still in puppyhead; only one is older than four and they are rambunctious at the least of times. Have I mentioned our daughter works full time out of the house? How much responsibility, energy and plain hard work can be allocated to one person? Plain idiocy.
There are, after all, besides the Momma and the Poppa and the Little Girl (and odd week-ends Little Boy) seven dogs, six rabbits. And as of this very day? A cat. An eighteen-pound, year-and-a-half male black/grey-and-white cat needing a home. Can seven dogs adjust to the presence of a cat? Can a cat adjust to the presence of six rabbits? All will be done. It takes our daughter months of patient work to ensure that each of the rabbits adjusts to the presence of any newcomers, and the cat-among-the-dogs-and-rabbits will be a breeze in comparison.
And more power to her. But when, oh when will it stop? If I'm asking this question, can you just imagine how her partner-for-now feels about it?
posted by Pieface @ Saturday, August 13, 2005
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