Pussies For Adoption

My utol's pet died this afternoon. I was at the gym when I received the text message announcing her bunny's passing. To sympathize, I sent a reply saying sorry for what happened. Her bawls and shrieks and sobs must be alarming the neighborhood at that time. I could imagine her crumpled face staring at the stiff rabbit inside the box. You see, utol might be a tough nut to crack, but she has a soft spot for little creatures passing away. She cried when the lesbian driver's little rabbit died a few years ago. I also remember her weeping when my duckling was eaten by a rat when we were young. The bunny was a gift from her boyfriend so I could feel her loss. What I could not understand is the frustration she showed after learning the rabbit was ill.

The creature was a Christmas present from her boyfriend. They were even sweet and cheesy when the tiny thumper first appeared in the living room. If I knew better, they were short of claiming the rabbit as their first-born. But the portrait - and pretension stopped there, because after New Year, the utol resumed her advocacy. The bunny was left under our care and the yaya was given responsibility of looking after the creature when we were not in the house.

The bunny was intelligent. It broke my earlier notion that such creatures were hopelessly dumb. He recognized me and the leaf stalks in my hand. He would let me touch his forehead or bring him close to the dog or the cat without displaying any hints of fear. When bored, or hungry, or when he needed more space to stretch his hind legs, the bunny would try to jump over his box. Sometimes it would gnaw at the cardboard paper hoping to make a big hole which would serve as his way to freedom. The utol was not able to appreciate the rabbit the way we did and sometimes, I just feel sorry the bunny didn't get the attention he deserves from his owner.

I knew something was wrong when the bunny ceased jumping over his balikbayan box. He also stopped eating the stalks of Kangkong the yaya brought everyday. The pages of newspaper serving as his pad might have suffocated the creature, but my guess was the bunny didn't able to cope up living in his dirty surroundings.

There were times I was tempted to let the poor rabbit out and let it roam around the kitchen. But my mother warned me not to interfere with my sister's pet or I will suffer the brunt of the United Nations. I didn't want to bear the responsibilities either so I started ignoring him inside the box. Had I listened to what my gut was telling me, the bunny might have lived.

The tiny thumper's death made me realize that we're not responsible pet owners. Not my sister. Not me. We tend to let them roam - as we pleased - so we could get away and ignore their basic needs. Neighbors are complaining about the cat stealing food on their table or shitting in their flowerpot. The dog brings home bags of trash in the morning and has lice as big as my pinky toenail grazing its skin.

Something must change or another pet may become another casualty. The cat has two kittens available for adoption. These amazing furballs may not have the breed of a Persian but their warm companionship will be good addition to your lonely households.

Any takers?