Bonnie Bunny

Many little girls grow up dreaming of the day they can be a mommy.  I wasn't one of them.  My momma told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and that God had something special just for me.  So instead of naming my children, I grew up dreaming about being a writer or astronaut or scientist or explorer.  I even had a brief fire-fighter stage.  It hasn't been until recently that I've been bitten by the mommy-bug.  There are several single female teachers here (and yes, eligible men as well) and a recurring conversation theme: When will we have families?  Do we HAVE to wait for husbands in order to raise children?  Personally, I speak strictly from the 'what-if' category on that; I have no plans to adopt at this time. =)

However-

My friend recently bought a bunny, and my maternal instincts instantly went into overdrive.  In lieu of adopting a Chinese baby, it occurred to me that adopting a Chinese bunny might fulfill my need to mother.

Where's PETA when you need them?

This instigated a bunny-hunt, which involved talking to several Chinese friends and students, renting motor bikes (bikes with motors, not motorcycles - a stroke of Chinese brilliance) and spending hours touring all over Xinzheng to find the pet-market.  Interestingly enough, the pet rabbits were right next to the meat rabbits.  The poor things were all jammed into metal baskets so tightly that they couldn't move.  From what I've seen, Chinese people are not gentle with their animals AT ALL.  Adults allow children to smack and poke them, and the sellers are rather rough with them, ripping off matted hair and carelessly squashing their faces as they pull them in and out of cages.

Cassie

Chatting after a stressful ride

I chose my bunny, a beautiful little 'Panda-rabbit' with black ears and a speckled back, picked out a spacious cage, and marveled at my student's ability to maneuver a bike AND a caged rabbit through the crowded streets of Xinzheng.  (By the way, riding those bikes is not as easy as it sounds.  I almost biffed once when my student wasn't looking.  I saw an old Chinese man watching me, so I said, 'Shhh!' and pointed at my student.  Conspiratorial laughs with strangers are the best!)




My bunny had a bit of a messy tummy, so that night I did something I've never done before: I gave a rabbit a bath!  Blow-drying a rabbit is not as easy as blow-drying a dog. The fur is really soft and short - it's impossible to brush, and took forever to dry, but she was too little to leave wet.  Wet bunny in a towel?  Maybe the cutest thing.



After much deliberation I decided to name her 'Bonnie' because she was such a perky little thing, and I liked the alliteration.  She especially liked running behind the sofa and exploring my bedroom.  I decided to potty train her (which required hunting down cat litter) but she pooped on my blanket and peed in my favorite shoes within the first two days.  Not ON my favorite shoes - IN my favorite shoes.

It was worth it though. She spent a lot of time meeting my friends, and hanging out around my feet.  What a trusting soul!

She learned how to Skype, met Blake, and spent a lot of time tracking his face back and forth across the screen.  What kind of mom would I be if I didn't photo-capture the cuteness?

Lucy and Bonnie having a bonding moment.  Once she was safely at home and not crashing around Xinzheng, Bonnie was fairly confident.  My apartment must have been a haven of calm in comparison to the craziness of the pet market.

She hung out in the pocket of my awesome jammies while I did laundry the other day.



This past week was Culture Week at Sias.  It involves a lot of presentations and performance by the foreign faculty that teaches world history and showcases multicultural performance arts.  Bonnie seemed a little tired (I presumed it was due to my late nights) so she was in her cage while I was turning my friend Elizabeth into a salsa dancer.  I was almost done with her hair when I hear a squeak.  "Is that my bunny?" I wondered aloud.  Since when do bunnies make noise?  I stuck my head out of the bathroom and saw poor Bonnie stretched out on the floor of her cage.  Elizabeth and I went over to check her out, and the little thing squeaked again.  I jumped up and grabbed a couple hundred yuan and my shoes while Elizabeth called a Chinese speaking friend to go to the vet with me.  I ransacked my cupboards for a box, spurred on by the anxious little cries.  I found one, but before I could get the cage open, she arched her back, and died.

I've never watched anything die in pain like that.  Surely there is nothing quite as pathetic and heartrending as the frightened, pained cries of a baby bunny.  I would have taken her to the vet earlier if I had recognized the signs of a sick rabbit. So sad...

I was then faced with an immediate dilemma:  what do I do with her?  I have an immense capacity to deal with unpleasant things, but I do NOT handle dead things well.  It's not the death itself that's difficult, it's the corpse.  I try not to show it, but they really scare me.  What an irrational fear - it's not going to jump up at me or DO anything.  I have to mention that this doesn't apply to food sources or animals that I've hunted/caught for food.  I can even grit my teeth and get through a dissection just fine, but fetal pigs are pushing it.  I don't even want to think about dissecting cats!  When I was 17 we had a lovo  (like a luau) for a friend's wedding, and one of my best friends thought it would be a great idea to chase me with the pig's head....outside...in the dark...surrounded by sleeping Fijians.  (PS: I'M NOT OVER IT YET.)

I hate this part of me.  It makes me feel weak and heartless.  Who goes to a funeral of a loved one and shudders at the sight of their corpse?  Why is it that I can adore my dog for years and have a hard time touching her only minutes after her death?  What logic can possibly be behind the fear of a corpse?  None.  There is no logic, but I can't shake the aversion.

I told Elizabeth a little about it as she prepared to leave for her salsa dance.  That amazing woman offered to come back and take care of little Bonnie for me!  I hate that I was relieved, but I was.  She left to dance, leaving me with my tiny bunny corpse.  I covered the cage with a blanket, and sat bravely in the same room, hating my cowardice, but also full of gratefulness for my friend's help.

For the last several years, it's been a goal of mine to conquer my fear of corpses.  They are the only thing that really frighten me.  My independent streak tells me that I should be able to deal with things on my own, ALL things.  If someone breaks into my house, I don't scream - I pick up something heavy to swing.  If there's a fire, I try to put it out instead of calling the fire department (like a sensible person should).  I've wanted to conquer this THING, but now I wonder, why should I?

Chinese people do everything within their power to disperse negative feelings.  They usually try to diffuse tension by dispersing it among many people.  If one person has a problem with another, they get another person to work it out for them.  From an American perspective this looks like 'ganging up' on someone, but in China it's like every person is a mediator.  If you're down, people swarm you with happiness until you can't help but smile.  Even if your smile stems from politeness rather than compulsion, the outward act can lead to the feeling.  In a way, contentment of the individual is the responsibility of the community.  The individual relies on their community's support, but is conscious and eager to support others.

I'm a naturally independent person.  I fear little.  Maybe it's okay for me to have this area of weakness.  Maybe it's okay for me to need other people's help once in a while.  Of course there are many areas in life where I've received help and assistance before, but that has been largely situational.  It's a bit different to acknowledge that I have a constant and predictable weakness.  Moving overseas has been a both/and experience so far; I've grown both more independent in action and more reliant on the support of others in issues of the heart.  In moving here, I wanted to become more independent and free.  Now that I'm here, I feel like I'm learning that relying on your community requires trust and a willingness to release control.  It's scary to admit that you need another person, especially if you don't know if that person will come through.  But it's through that vulnerability that people can truly love one another.

My sweet and sad little time with Bonnie bunny left me with a bag of rabbit food and an empty cage.  It was so nice to have something to love on, but it might be a while before I get another bunny.  She was a sweetheart, and I miss her.