The Love Goes On
Yesterday was Doodle’s birthday. He would have been 12. He died of a nasty parasite which attacks the brain, probably dormant since birth, and increasingly aggressive as the rabbit ages, causing serious neurological issues (seizures, paralysis, incontinence). 11 is a pretty awesome lifespan for a rabbit. So I made this collage for Doo, and when I told Max it was Doodle’s birthday, she seemed sadder (she’s just now coming out of her great depression) and subdued. If I hadn’t mentioned it, she might have felt something anyway, I don’t know. I have this bizarre habit of saying what’s true. It gets me into so much trouble but I can’t help it. Yesterday, in looking for a tree service company to take down our 70 foot Pine, the fellow argued with me (called me flat out wrong/mistaken/uninformed, just short of stupid) about Gypsy Moths using Pine as host. Of course they prefer Oak, but they killed our Birch, our neighbor has them in their Maple and I SAW them dropping out of the Pine, both caterpillars and female moths, dead (no, I did not weep for them. A dead Gypsy in a good one, in this case). Any way, I shan’t be using their services but it rubbed my fur the wrong way and I can’t let it go. My darling son sided with the “Expert”, against my “anecdotal evidence”. “I SAW THEM SCOTT!” I exclaimed, but he yammered about studies and statistics and I am quite certain he did not come out of my body. We brought the wrong baby home and it’s all water under the bridge now. Oh sweet Doodle. My loving tribute has gotten mixed up in this great annoyance, so sorry sweetness. I miss you so much. It’s not the same without you. I hope you had a birthday bash with your buddies at the rainbow bridge. Binky Free! xo

