Sammy

I had quite a bit of a scare with Sammy (my Angora Mini Lop bunny) last week.

About 2 weeks ago, Sammy's appetite slowed down, and he was sleeping more. Since there was a sudden drop in temperature, and bunnies do slow down during the winter, I thought that's what it was. However, when I noticed on Friday night (Dec. 3) that he had not eaten his pellets, I put fresh apples and cabbage in his cage. He ate, but his feces were black and small - not a good sign.

I took Sammy to his vet on Monday night, and Dr. Gallerstein thought he might be in pain or have the beginning of GI Stasis, a deadly and extemely painful shutdown of their digestive tract. He gave Sammy a prescription and told me to count the feces. I was really, really worried, but with medication and a box of fresh hay, Sammy is now doing very well. He is constantly eating (and pooping), and he seems more alert and happy. It took about 2 days for me to see results, and I made about 6 calls in that time. I was a panicked Mommy!

The very first rabbit I ever had was named Stu. I had bought him for an ex-boyfriend after we'd been playing with him in a pet store, and as we were leaving he stood up as if to ask, "Hey, where y'all going?". Long story short, I found out that this ex had been spanking Stu for no reason, so I took him home with me immediately. Stu loved me so much, when I would pick him up he'd put his paws on my chin and kiss me. Bunnies are not normally so affectionate. Unfortunately, I did not know anything about rabbits. Stu got GI Stasis and died in three days, in agony. I vowed it will never happen again.

Years later, I find Sammy, my Angora Minilop, at a tack and feed store that allows people to drop off their pets and livestock for adoption. It's June, North Inland San Diego when it's hot and dry. I see this strawberry blonde furball in the back of a hutch, trying to escape the sunlight that was inches and minutes (as the sunlight passed) from hitting him directly with no shade. I felt so bad for him, I adopted him. As soon as we got in my car, I put him on the passenger seat, but he hopped over and sat in my lap all the way home. That night, I placed him next to my pillow, and he sat there the entire night.

I decided to name him Sammy after Sam Kennison, the comedian, since my bunny had the same color hair and seemed to have an attitude. He didn't like for me to kiss him. I got nipped on the cheek and lip a few times because he did not approve of my affection. If he hid under or behind furniture, I would use a plastic hanger to scare him out. Instead, he would growl and box the hanger! I thought rabbits were prey...

Months later, Sammy started to go through puberty. I found out what it was the hard way: he was marking me as basically his bitch, by spraying me with urine. I got really tired and pissed of having to clean up, and change my clothes and bedding almost every day. Finally, one day after spraying me, I'd had enough. I got up, yelled at him, and grabbed him by the ears with my right hand. He lunged forward and bit into my left forearm. I had to pull him away, tearing my flesh, because he would not let go. Everyone told me to either take him to the Humane Society or release him out in the desert, where he would surely die.

Remembering his first day with me and how he got close to me immediately, but had defensive mannerisms, I thought there may be underlying reasons for his behavior. I think at some time, he was probably very loved, but maybe someone in his household turned out to be mean to him. So, I had a talk with him. I said, "Sammy, I am the only one who will take care of you. If I don't, you're dead. I love you, and I'm sorry for upsetting you and disrespecting you. Now, you need to respect me. Stop peeing on me and 'marking' me. I'm Mama, not your Girl. Be a good boy and this will work out." He never marked me again, and he only nipped my lip one more time.

It was 2005 when I adopted Sammy. I was very mobile and used to take him out for car rides on the weekends and the park now and then. He knew me when I was at my best, and when I'd gotten worse, and I fell in my room one day, he was scared for me. He ran into his cage, ran in circles, and hopped onto the top shelf of his cage as if to see if I was okay. When I had him neutered and picked him up, I cried and babied him. There was a fire in San Diego in 2007. Since I lived very close to the danger zone, I lined my car seat with blankets, set up food, water, and a makeshift litter box. I took him to work with me every day and left the windows open, checking on him on my breaks and lunch.

In 2009, I found a lump the size of a pea on his chin. He had an absess and it turned out to be in his right cheek as well. He needed surgery, and my poor Sammy had his cheek shaved, and got an inch-long incision in his cheek. I gave him medicine twice a day. When he didn't eat, I force-fed him using a huge syringe and powdered pellets with warm water. I gave him IV's so he would not get dehydrated, and I put him in bed with me at night for comfort.

I am not a hug-a-bunny activist, pardon the pun. I am not a vegetarian, nor a vegan, and I do not belong to or support PETA. I love animals. Our furry companions can't speak to us, but we learn to communicate with each other. Sammy has been in my life through some good times and bad. When I get good news, I pick him up and hold him, as I do, when I am sad. He doesn't hold grudges. He trusts me. I laugh at the things he does. Sammy is my fur angel. I love him and he knows it. I know that when he puts his head on my shoulder and chatters his teeth in contentment, he loves me too!