27 Sep 2013
In the face of trauma, humans are weak. During and after the incident with Gwendolyn, posing as a strong horse, I did not cry. I think it was motherly instinct to be strong for my baby bunny. But when we reached the amazing Dr. Maro at the Ellwood Veterinary Hospital, I fell to pieces. Cue Patsy Cline tune.
Dogs are different.
That first evening, she wanted nothing to do with anything. Not her new toy. Not her mommy. Not even her belly rubs. Scratch that. She did want something. Goat’s milk! My little Hoover.
But, at 1am of that same night (well, next morning), I heard a squeak. Then another. Then another. Hooray! She was playing with her new toy! It took just a few minutes for Gwendolyn to become tired again, but the playfulness existed. The playfulness which I thought had been killed. Day two also brought lots of sympathetic pets from passerby.
Pressies from good friends.
And wanting of Icelandic catfish skins.
And even hugs with mommy.
That Get Well toy from day one? Yes, it’s quite annihilated. ;)
Day three, toy number two!
And now she needs a nap.
Just minutes ago, in this exact position, during her deeply dramatic snores, Gwendolyn wagged her tail. To know that she is dreaming of happiness is to know something wonderful. And you, dear readers, are wonderful. Thank you for your compassion in the comments section of my last post. Your kindness has helped me and Gwendolyn to manage this tragedy. I hope that you hugged your loved ones, just a little bit tighter, or at least text-messaged those who live far away.
Because I want to keep this blog rolling with presentation of life after the ‘eating disorder’, I’ll mention briefly that before Gwendolyn was hurt, I had consumed half of my morning vegan cookie from Whole Foods. After she was hurt and we entered the car for transportation to the vet, I knew that my cookie was within grasp, but I didn’t want a single part of it. The thought of food disinterested me. And, we all know that if a cookie is there, I will eat it. Furthermore, I could not eat in front of my baby who could not. This experience differs from her February 2010 eye-popping-out injury. At that point, still Bulimic, my mother babysat Gwendolyn to enable my tending to sales calls. But after said sales calls, instead of rushing home, I rushed to the grocery store to stock on food. It would be rationed throughout the next few days. At least that was the intention. But it was consumed that night. And purged. My girl was sick, needing a snuggle bunny, a mommy, and I was bingeing and purging and passing out due to exhaustion. It took five more months to end those bad habits, but I did. And this time around? Food doesn’t matter. It’s not Gwendolyn + Food = my life. It’s Gwendolyn = my life. And I will do everything in my power to ensure her comfort.
When have you allowed food addiction or another bad behaviour to cause your absence from something important?