It’s A Nice Day For A White Bunny

Last week I picked up a cute guy while out walking.


He’s short, hairy, and handsome, and he has this thing for raw carrots.



Meet Pepper, named by Miss C. He is now livin’ large after being homeless. But not with us. (The dogs would eat him in one bite.)


I work in a nice office park area and there’s a long stretch of sidewalk that runs behind a nearby Publix strip mall. I was zipping along when I spotted a small black and white creature nibbling grass at the edge of some trees and bushes about 30 feet in front of me. I was close enough to realize, thank you Jesus, that I wasn’t about to get sprayed by a skunk, and it didn’t take long to determine that it was a domesticated bunny. No doubt someone had gotten this little guy as an Easter surprise and decided they couldn’t keep him so they dropped him off in this nice commercial area with the Range Rover dealership and nail salon and Starbucks within hopping distance. Maybe they thought someone would see him and pick him up. Maybe that someone would be a woman who works in the area who is a TOTAL SUCKER FOR SMALL HELPLESS FURRY BEINGS.


I had on white capris (natch) so I rolled them up past my knees, knelt in the grass and talked to this bunny. Thankfully no one was driving by to see what a total weirdo I was but I couldn’t just walk off and leave a pet rabbit in such a commercial area. He’d never make it past summer.


“OK little guy if you let me pick you up, I will find you a home.”


I clenched my teeth and picked him up, bracing myself for him to scratch the living daylights out of my bare arms with his strong back feet. But he was as docile as can be. Obviously this little guy was not your garden variety brown garden rabbit. This guy was meant to be a pet. I’d spotted a somewhat nasty box in the nearby ditch and used it as a temporary crate to carry him back to my office and straight to my car and then had to figure what the heck to do next. I called my co-worker and gave her the 30-second “so I have this live rabbit in a box” update and she brought me my purse and keys and a fresh box to transport him in. I used a mesh seat back travel cushion for a makeshift bunny cage top on the box, and I cranked the AC in my car and the classical music during the 20-minute drive to my house to meet my dad. Mr. Bunny was not digging the confines of the box.


My dad took Mr. Bunny to the vet where  he was treated for all his various and sundry hitchiker parasites and they determined that he was indeed a boy. (You haven’t lived until you’ve heard your 79-year-old dad say to you and your kids, “The vet had to just dig and dig down in the little guy’s fur to find his little bunny pecker it was so small.”)


Long story short, hubby made a call and our neighbors knew someone who is a huge small animal fan with a rescue rabbit and a rescue rat for pets. She met me at the house the next day with a small carrying case filled with fresh hay and it was love at first sight for both of them.


Farewell Mr. Bunny. Somewhere in heaven you have an awesome guardian angel and you also have a few people here on Earth who wanted to see you make it.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I hope everyone has a fantastic Mother’s Day! We’re spending time today with two great moms in my life—my amazing mom and my wonderful mother-in-law—not to mention my sisters and my sister-in-law. This motherhood business deserves a shout out!

It’s raining cats and dogs here in Nashville, but this is probably because one of my early Mother’s Day gifts yesterday was hubby and Miss C totally cleaning out my nasty SUV inside and out. It was pretty much a science experiment on wheels. You could probably survive on the crumbs of food that were on the floorboard for weeks and weeks. Any way, it seems like Murphy’s Law that when you wash a filthy car it rains, right?

Now that I have a clean car, I can fantasize about having a clean house. My friend Niri at Mommy Niri has featured a fun round up of blog friends with their Mother’s Day wishes. Check it out!

But first, here’s a great picture of me with my mom.

I love you mama!

1969


 

Me and my mom, fall of 1969. I’m sure you can’t decipher the year by the dark wood paneling and my mom’s epic Tammy Wynette hair.

Lost And Found


My marathon girls!


There aren’t many situations quite as terrifying for parents as losing sight of their child at a public event.

Two weeks ago we had a frightening incident involving our 7-year-old daughter, Miss A, at the ING Kids Marathon in downtown Nashville. I will preface this by saying that she was fine the entire time and was technically not “lost,” but 40 minutes went by from the point my husband watched her turn the final corner toward the finish line with the other 1st grade runners to the point he finally laid eyes on her again.

40 minutes.

The traffic going into downtown as completely backed up before the event, which started on a Friday afternoon at 5 p.m. – the heart of rush hour.  It seemed, at least to us, that the inflow of participants had not been anticipated.  We have come into town for Titans games and gotten to the stadium with ease.  Traffic was so slow, though, that hubby and Miss A got out of the car while we were stuck on the off-ramp and ran the rest of the way so Miss A wouldn’t miss her race.

Because Miss C and I were trying to find a parking place the entire time hubby was with Miss A (finding her school’s tent, finding the starting line, finding her group, watching her start, watching her round the corner toward finish, then vanishing), I wasn’t really aware of the situation until she and I finally arrived at her school tent at 6:05. I texted hubby to let him know we’d finally parked and were at the school tent waiting for her race, which was scheduled for 6:30. He didn’t respond because he did not want me to yet know that he had not been able to locate Miss A, whose race began at 5:15 and who had been seen and photographed by a couple of her P.E. teachers crossing the finish line.

She should be waiting for him to retrieve her at the finish line, right? Wrong.

I found later that hubby had managed to get to the end of the “corral” that Miss A was supposed to come out of on time. When he got there, the kids were packed like sardines waiting for their parents to produce a matching number. There was one girl from our school that he recognized and she was at the front of the line, crying as she didn’t see her mother and there was pressure on her as other racers finished and the corral bottlenecked. When the mother finally got the girl after 25 minutes, hubby was able to ask her if she had seen Miss A. The girl had, and said that Miss A had finished AHEAD of her. That’s when he got really scared.

When we spoke on the phone again, he said “There is NO SIGN OF HER ANYWHERE, Jamie, and it’s been 30 minutes!” My heart had that sinking feeling, like a rock slowly falling to the bottom of a pool. I had to help him find her. I left Miss C, our 4th grader, with other parents at the school tent as her race was about to start, so I could help locate Miss A.

A few minutes later hubby called to say he had FINALLY spotted Miss A behind some marathon workers in the finish line area in the wrong corral. Because of the way they were situated and she was situated she had been virtually hidden. By then I was ready to have a nervous breakdown. I was so proud of her for being calm…but she had no idea that anything was wrong!

So, facts and questions remain:

  • Everyone we dealt with from school during this situation was SPECTACULAR.  We are so very lucky to have the excellent teachers and staff that we do at the girls’ school.

  •  Hubby saw dozens of first graders crying as they were waiting in the “corral.” They were packed like sardines, and parents waving numbers to claim their child were at least 12 deep.  He said it was slightly organized chaos, and parents were busting through and pulling their kids out on the sides rather than wait their turn.  He said it was like the floor of the Stock Exchange, but with kids.  How did that happen?

  • When my husband was advised to go to the medical tent, he saw no injuries…just 4 children who were “misplaced” and a line of frantic parents reporting that they could not locate their kids.

  • How can you be a gate worker and have a small child right beside you who has been waiting for 40 minutes…and NOT be proactive by using your walkie talkie to see if she was reported lost or missing?

Miss A wanted to participate this year and I was all for it. The P.E. teachers at our school do a superb job of organizing our runners and keeping parents informed of the race day details. All the kids wear matching t-shirts and parent volunteers run with the kids. All kids are required by marathon organizers to have their names, grade, and school printed on their official marathon number tag pinned to their t-shirts, as well as have a parent’s cell phone number written on the back.

With that said, the logistics of having 7,000 kids and their parents in a small area, running in sequence in a short time frame, created a scenario that was one of the scariest of my life, and quite a few other parents, as well.

Have you ever lost your child at a public event? Were you at the Nashville kids marathon? What do you think could be done to improve logistics of crowd control and safety?

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