HARRY'S HORRENDOUS HAIR CUT

In this age of instant information and widespread computer access, there's no excuse for not knowing how to take care of rabbits and what they require for their care. Just as dogs and cats have different needs, so bunnies have their own set of requirements for healthy living. I highly recommend The House Rabbit Society because it has a wealth of information for both novice and experienced rabbit owners.

In the summer of 2000, a friend of a friend gave me a bedraggled black and white bunny named Harry. His long fur was so matted and his rump so caked with feces that he could barely move. He formerly spent his days in a cramped carrier that stunk horribly. After taking him to a vet to get the mat and feces removed, Harry's fur began growing until it became a tangled mess. No matter how often I brushed him, mats and knots kept occurring.

From my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), here is how I learned first hand just how much care fuzzy lops needed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I didn't realize how expensive it would be to take care of
Harry. In November, I had friends take him to the vet for a
haircut. The poor guy's long, fine fur tangled easily and all my
brushing only helped a little and made Harry angry with me. He
soon avoided me whenever I had a hairbrush in hand.

While the vet was working on my lop-eared lad, I went
shopping for groceries and other things. When I returned, I was
handed the bill. It was over sixty dollars. I couldn't believe it.

"We had to anaesthetize him because he kept squirming,"
the vet tech informed me.

My heart sunk as I visualized paying that amount every
three months.

=================================================================

When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more stories of life with house bunnies. These range from the tragic to the hilarious. Click Here to read more about this book and to order it.

COMPASSION FOR A STARFISH.

Judging from this vignette from my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I had a tender heart for even the lowest of animals. Having never lived in a family that regularly hunted and fished, my view of wildlife was shaped by Disney cartoons and nature documentaries. I still care about the welfare of animals but my view of God's creatures is tempered by the knowledge that he gave them to us for our use and management.

In November of 1969, my schoolmates and I were taken on a field trip to the beach. As I attended Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind in Vancouver, British Columbia, I yearned for the Christmas holidays when I could be with my family in Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta. Here's how a starfish became a souvenir in my suitcase.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Another gift I packed was a starfish. Mr. Moiarty took us on a walk along the beach one Saturday afternoon. As we strolled, a few men in diving suits called us over to see what they brought from the ocean floor.

One man held up an oblong, translucent, orange-brown creature. "This is a sea cucumber," he announced. He let the totally blind students touch its blubbery surface as he explained about the animal. "If they're attacked, they expel their innards to distract the predator," he claimed.

Then the divers gave us each a starfish to take back with us. When I received mine, it was purple and had only four rays.

"How come this one has one leg missing?" I inquired.

"A fish must have eaten it," the diver explained. "Starfish can lose a point and regrow it again."

He explained how these creatures ate and how they could live out of the water for up to twelve hours. I thought it might be fun to have a pet starfish but then I realized how impractical that would be.

Before we parted, the divers gave us some coral. It was hard and greyish-beige. Mine reminded me of the human brain which Mr. Warner once let us touch.

"We'd better dry these starfish before they rot," Mr. Moiarty said when we returned to our dorm rooms. He took each one and scraped out its innards with a butter knife. I refused to watch, feeling queasy at the killing of even these simple creatures. Then he laid them on the table to dry.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

IF ONLY SOMEBODY CARED ABOUT BULLYING IN 1966.

November 14 to 20 was Bullying Awareness Week, an event started eight years ago by Bill Belsey of Cochrane, Alberta Canada. The theme for this year was, "Stand Up! (to bullying)" Click here to visit his home page.

I wish the authorities had dealt decisively with bullies back in the grim autumn of 1966. While at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind in Vancouver, British Columbia, a certain boy, who I refer to as Charlie, began picking on me for reasons known only to him. When I complained to teachers, supervisors, and the principal, I was unanimously advised to ignore him so he'd lose interest and quit. That was exactly the wrong thing for me to do.

From Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here is how Charlie's mistreatment of me began.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Living with Charlie became progressively worse for me. When I first came to Jericho, I could tolerate his company. He eventually became bossy and scornful. As I left the Dining Hall after breakfast one morning, Charlie followed me. Suddenly he twisted my left arm and held it behind my back.

"You want me to break this again?" he taunted as he held my arm. "I could do it easily you know." I quickly begged him not to, not wanting to have a cast on and suffering more pain. "You better do as I say or I'll break your arm," Charlie warned as he let me go. I felt miserable as I walked to class. When I went to public school, I could get away from bullies for the evening but not so in Jericho.

=================================================================

Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

WHAT HARM COULD A PEACE SYMBOL DO?

When I look back at all the crap I learned at Thee Church, it's a wonder I can think at all. Its elders kept me on a spiritual treadmill for 15 years, all the while severely abusing my trusting nature.

From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here's just one example of how my seemingly innocuous activities were grounds for rebukes by that superstitious cult's members.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Because nobody discipled me until I joined Thee Church, the Christian faith seemed to consist of many peculiar prohibitions. Apparently, somebody somewhere forbad the drawing of certain symbols. A few years previously, a cereal company offered free booklets containing photos of famous N.H.L. hockey goals in each box. When flipped, the figures seemed to move. Though I hated sports, I became enamoured with the concept of still pictures being made to look like a short film clip.

During my first month at Jay and Linda's home, I realized that I too could make my own animated booklets. Whenever I had an evening with no homework to do, I sat at the kitchen table and drew each frame of my short animations. One displayed a peace symbol rolling like a wheel.

"Look at this, Jay. Isn't it cool?" I said after showing him how to animate the pictures.

He frowned at the booklet and then at me. "You shouldn't draw this. Peace symbols are evil."

"Evil? How come?"

"It's an ancient pagan fertility sign. Christians should have nothing to do with it because it's of the Devil." Not knowing any better, I reluctantly tossed out my creation and refrained from drawing peace symbols.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses. It should be in print sometime in 2011.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.

CULTS CONDEMNING CULTS.

When I was a high school student, handing out tracts on the street was a popular activity among religious practitioners. This was especially true of cults. Even when most pedestrians tossed aside the handbills, true believers persisted in importuning passers by with their messages. The litter from discarded paper became so serious that the City of Toronto banned tract missions.

In the autumn of 1974, the followers of a man calling himself Moses David fanned out onto the streets of Edmonton with tracts containing the sayings of their leader. Being targeted to teenagers, these mini epistles appealed to me.

From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here is how I, who was also a member of an obscure cult, became acquainted with this equally obscure cult.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

This misplaced confidence caused me to defer unquestioningly to Brother H in all spiritual matters. "What are these Moses David people all about?" I asked him after supper one Wednesday in November. "Some guy on the street gave this Mo Letter to me but I don't understand it."

He examined the tract that I handed him, read it over, and came to a conclusion. "This is a cult. If this Moses David man was like either Moses or David, he would recognize that Jesus is God. I advise you to have nothing to do with these people."

As soon as Sister E drove me home after the meeting, I gathered up every Mo Letter I had collected. "It's too bad they're not of God," I said to myself. "I liked the comics." I sighed and tossed them into the garbage. After that evening, I refused to take the tracts that the Moses David followers offered. The fact that I myself was in a cult didn't occur to me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

My previous memoirs, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) are featured At my InScribe writers group page.

MY FIRST FINANCIAL REALITY CHECK.

As far as I'm aware, debt is the biggest crisis this world faces today. Governments, increasingly influenced by Marxist notions of redistribution, recklessly tax and borrow to finance activities once performed by hard-working charities. The bigger the bureaucracies of the nations have grown, the more dependent citizens have become on government largesse.

The concept of prudently spending finite funds is opaque to socialist rulers but I had no choice but to learn it. From Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), here is how I found out that there really is no free lunch or treats for that matter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

During that autumn, I learned the hard way that life did not owe me a living. The weekend supervisor, a loud-voiced, heavy set, middle-aged, authoritarian whom I shall call Mr. Moiarty, took us to the beach one November afternoon. We walked along a road, which ran parallel to the ocean, for a few hours. We finally stopped at a kiosk selling candy and chips.

"Could you buy me one of these?" I asked our supervisor and pointed at the chocolate bars.

"Use your own money; I'm not your dad. This isn't the little kids dorm. You're supposed to buy your own candy. You can't expect people to always buy everything for you, you know," he chided. Mr. Moiarty's rebuke stung. I foolishly hoped some measure of grace would be extended to us and we could have a few more treats than usual but I realized then that I must make do with my allowance and could not expect help from others.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Deliverance from Jericho contains many more vignettes of what life was like in that government-run institution. These range from poignant experiences of homesickness to hilarious incidents of mischief. Click here to read more about this book and to order it. You may also e-mail me directly for more information.

SOMETHING THE PET STORES DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW.

Did you know that you can make your own pet toys? Many folks assume that they can only buy them from the pet store. With all the rabbits I've lived with, I've discovered that they often ignored the store-bought chew toys that I gave them while they had hours of fun with the ones I made.

From my debut memoir, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), here's how I turned a discarded cardboard box into a chew toy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

One November afternoon, while shopping at Dickensfield
Mall, I found a cardboard box with hand holes and no lid. I took
it home and decided to play another prank on Gideon.

I placed the box over him and waited to see what he'd do. Would my bunny bro try to chew his way out?

At first, he pawed at the holes. When that didn't work, he
started nibbling at the bottom edge of one of them. My bunny
buddy made steady progress and the hand hole grew larger. He
tried several times to hop through it, but broke off the leap at the last minute. His whiskers must have told him it was still too small.

Finally, he leapt through the new opening and took his
bearings. That silly rabbit seemed to be having so much fun
chewing the box and ripping it up that he almost forgot he was
escaping it. He hopped in and out of his former prison, rejoicing
in the novelty of his newfound freedom.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more stories of life with house bunnies. These range from the tragic to the hilarious. Click Here to read more about this book and to order it.