Here's the circle of Life and Death in action!
Shortly after mourning the death of poor Rocky and weeding the garden plot just across the way from his hutch, a coworker found a nest of baby bunnies. Knowing that the mother would have been smart enough to move her babes upon finding the nest disturbed, but also knowing that the bane of the farm rats would soon become that of these poor younglings, Auntie and I returned to the scene of the crime that balmy, mid-afternoon and took pity on them. We brought them home to care for them and re-release them when they are ready. Now, I know some of you chancing upon this blog will wag your tongues and shakes fingers, but, really, left on the farm, they would have only ended up finding the poison meant for the rats. Here, at my home they stand a much greater chance of survival. Hell! It's been about a week, now and they've already graduated from kitten formula to carrots with ease! They are surviving, but not only that, they are recieving motherly love from Auntie, my sister (who visits occasionally) and myself. But that not all! Auntie teacup Chihuahua has an endearing characteristic that we can only assume is a Napolean complex; he simply adores anything smaller than him. He also cannot help but stand stock still and stare at small creatures as if, well, as Auntie puts it, "As if he were standing next to Elvis." Then, there's dear, sweet, blind Sophia. Sophia is Auntie's Italian Greyhound and, being a Greyhound, we always fear her getting too close to small creatures. Having been a mother twice, then being fixed but always having a dazed look of longing to reclaim her puppies, she took right to the bunnies, and they to her. She loves them as if they were her pups come home. They lay with her and she cleans and cuddles them. So, you see, they are in quite a good place.
In a blog on life, I would not dream of leaving out yet another addition of new voices. Just two days ago I went with Auntie to claim her new chicks. We've got chickens and quail already, but Auntie and Uncle go through so many eggs that six more chicks (soon to be laying hens) have become quite necessary. Two Rhode Island Reds and four Americanas (although they might actually be full blood Aracanas, I am uncertain at this posting), all sweet and tame and ready to cuddle the hands that enter their warm, safe, red-lit haven. They will serve their purpose as they grow, but what magnificent little companions they're becoming. (The Chihuahua loves them, too, of course.)
Side note (that has nothing to do with Paganism, but everything to do with a bit of bittersweet mourning): I just watched the final episode of Pushing Daisies that Flimmi on YouTube was good enough to post for us poor Americans who would otherwise have to wait until May 30th. So, why not end this post with the gist of the end of the last episode:
Endings are only Beginnings.
Good night, Dearies.