ONE MISTAKE WAS ONE TOO MANY FOR ONE SUPERVISOR.

Have you ever been left alone in a car when you were young? It's one of the worst things a parent or guardian can do to children. Apart from the danger of paedophiles, confining them to the car without supervision is a form of psychological abuse.

In my Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) memoir, I wrote of the times when adults, who ought to have known better, left me alone in a vehicle while they enjoyed themselves. In this excerpt, I was punished by a mean supervisor at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind because I put on the wrong kind of shoes.

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I upset Mrs. Parker often and this Easter was no exception. One rainy afternoon, she drove us to Stanley Park. As I stepped out of the car, she noticed I wore the wrong type of shoes. "I told you to put on your rubbers. Can't you do anything right?" I sat in the back seat, feeling wretched.

"Since you're so stupid and dense, you'll have to sit in this car and wait for the rest of us," Mrs. Parker ordered.

"Can I listen to the radio?" I timidly asked.

"No you can't. You sure have nerve asking that after you've inconvenienced all of us with your thoughtlessness. You sit there in the back seat. We'll be back in an hour."

It seemed much longer than sixty minutes as I waited while the rest of the dorm enjoyed their walk. I had nothing else to do but let my imagination entertain me. As Dad often left me in his Volkswagen while he went into the bar, this punishment was similar. I felt livid. Adults seemed incredibly selfish and mean-spirited. They possessed absolute power over us and yet some abused it for their own ends.

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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.

HAPPY EASTER, BUT NOT FOR SOME.

Easter is normally an exciting time of year for children. They eagerly look forward to all the chocolate and candy goodies that the Easter Bunny, a.k.a. mom or dad, brings to them. The weather in northern latitudes also improves dramatically, allowing them to play outside without bundling up like Arctic explorers. Then there's the days spent away from the routine of school. This period varies from one region to another.

In Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), I wrote about how I not only was sent five-hundred miles from home to a residential school but I had to stay in the dorm over the Easter holidays three times. As this excerpt shows, I felt deeply hurt that one Alberta boy's parents sent him a plane ticket so he could go home while mine didn't.

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I faced another lonely Easter away from home with even more sadness in my heart than the previous year. I felt particularly grieved that Brian's parents paid for his plane ticket, allowing him to be with his loved ones. "Why couldn't Mom and Dad buy me a plane ticket home?" I kept asking myself.

My morale sank even lower when Mrs. Parker drove us to the airport one midnight to see Brian off. We all waved and said good-bye as our fortunate friend boarded the jet, each of us silently envying him. As our supervisor drove us back to Jericho, we discussed Brian's privilege of having an Easter vacation at home.

"Farmers must be rich since Brian's parents can have him sent home for Easter," I grumped. Mrs. Parker overheard and jumped on that remark. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Farmers aren't rich; Brian's parents love him. Don't you realize how much airplane tickets cost." Though she was right regarding farmers, I felt wounded due to her insensitive rebuke.

As we cruised through the dark rain-drenched streets, I pondered why my parents refused to buy me a ticket as well so I could leave for a few weeks. Did they not care at all about me?

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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.

RABBITS AT PLAY

Did you know that rabbits love to play? This is a fact that many people, who never have lived with a bunny in their house, find surprising. Even so, these animals enjoy themselves in their own inimitable way.

As dogs and cats become frisky on occasions, rabbits will suddenly dash around the room for the sheer joy of running. In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) memoir, I wrote of the time my rabbit, Gideon, discovered the joys of racing at top speed in the hallway of the house I rented at the time. I was often distracted from my writing in the mornings by the sound of his exuberant charging back and forth. Watching his obvious pleasure in his new game gave me immense enjoyment too.

Other rabbits also demonstrated their sense of fun throughout the years. Neutrino, named after a song by Klaatu, loved to push toys out of a cardboard tube used by builders to make concrete pillars. I suppose it seemed like a burrow to him. The odds and ends I shoved back into it was like dirt that caved in. We spent many happy moments playing this game.

Cardboard bunny houses are one of the most entertaining toys for both them and their humans. Every rabbit I've had enjoyed them. All I did was to cut an entrance in each end of a box and place it on the floor. My bunnies chewed on their houses, hopped on top of them, and even napped inside them. When I placed an old phone book inside, the rabbits spent many happy hours shredding the pages.

My rabbit-loving friends and I also placed hay in toilet paper tubes to encourage them to eat more of this beneficial food. Like children, bunnies would rather eat treats than something that helps their digestion. The coarse fibres in hay also prevents their teeth from growing too long. In addition, placing hay inside the tubes made it fun for them to eat. My rabbits often tossed them around while they dined.

In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit book, I also wrote about a fun toy I made for my long-eared friends. Here's how it came about.

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During the summer, I invented a cool bunny toy. My PC had
ruined a fair number of CD-R disks and I was idly examining
one when an idea struck me. I found a toilet paper tube,
flattened it and turned it into a spindle. Then I shoved it through the centre of the disk. The toy rolled back and forth and made a
satisfactory noise, from a rabbit's viewpoint.

All three of my lads loved the new plaything and my house
was filled with the distinctive sound of their game. The only
problem with my new invention was that the aluminum coating
on the disk started to peel. I scraped it off, so that the rabbits
wouldn't ingest it and that solved the problem.

When I told the folks on PetBunny about my new invention,
people liked the idea so much that they started making them for
their bunnies.

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When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more fascinating 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. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

LEARN FROM MY FAMILY'S TRAGEDY.

Is it better to make the same mistakes as others or to learn from their misfortunes? The answer is obvious. Like millions of families, we bought a young bunny at Easter without knowing how to look after her. As has happened in many other households, our rabbit ended up in a backyard hutch and died a few months later due to our neglect. This need not have happened. These pets can live up to ten years with proper care and loving attention, things which we never provided our trusting bunny.

I wrote When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) in the hope that novice rabbit owners would read and be forewarned regarding impulse purchases of living creatures. Here's an excerpt from it that describes the easily-avoidable tragedy of buying live animals on a whim.

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On a snowy day in April 1968, my mom and I visited the downtown Edmonton Eaton's department store and we spotted some blond-coloured rabbits in a raised pen.

On a whim, Mom decided to buy one to surprise my sister Diane. Because of the rabbit's wiggly nose, we named her Samantha, after the character in the Bewitched television show.

Diane and I enjoyed our new pet. We loved stroking her soft golden fur and her silky ears. Both of us giggled when Samantha tickled our faces with her whiskers and licked our fingers.

Unfortunately, we weren't as gentle as we could have been with her. We thought it was hilarious when Samantha kicked her legs spasmodically when placed on her back in somebody's lap. We often improperly carried that poor bunny and were entirely too noisy around her.

As I was attending Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind in Vancouver, I was only able to be with Samantha over the Easter holidays. Sent home at the end of June, I discovered that she was kept in a large wooden hutch in the backyard. When I asked Mom why, she said that the mess the rabbit made had become too much for her to bear.

I visited Samantha the first evening of my summer vacation and when I knelt and looked in on her, she hopped from the main part of her cage to her private quarters. I opened the door on the side and she glared at me with large brown eyes?as if I were intruding.
I felt rejected by her.

Besides, it was boring watching a bunny through the wire.

I soon lost interest and the poor animal ended up alone most of the time as we went about our daily activities.

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When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more fascinating 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. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

PROTECT YOUR HOME FROM YOUR HOUSE RABBIT.

Did you know that you can keep bunnies in your house in the same way that dogs and cats are kept? These animals can be litter trained and they enjoy hanging out with their humans. In Fact, it's cruel to leave these sociable creatures alone in backyard cages where they receive little attention. With certain precautions, and depending on the animal's personality, rabbits can enjoy the freedom of their caretaker's homes.

In my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) memoir, I explained how I learned, both from friends and from experience, how to coexist with my long-eared companions. Here's a summery of just a few facts that I learned.

Rabbits love to chew on electrical cords. Protect them by either hiding them behind heavy furniture that fits close to the wall or put them inside cord wrap plastic tubes that automotive and electrical stores sell. I've found that this helps keep bunnies safe from being shocked in most cases. Some persistent rabbits may manage to chew through the plastic wrap tubes. Covering them with aluminum tape helps to prevent this. In extreme cases, cords can be slipped through an old garden hose. If the plug on the end is too big to go through, slit the hose down its side and insert the cord. Then tape it up with aluminum tape. This product can be found at hardware stores.

Rabbits sometimes chew or dig up carpets, particularly against walls. I solved the problem by filling empty four litre jugs with water and lining the walls with them. Not only did this help deter my bunnies but I had a ready supply of water with which I could flush the toilet or use to wash my face during power failures. As I have a well, I can't use it during blackouts.

Some rabbits insist on chewing up furniture and door posts. I've found that squirting vinegar or smearing hand soap on the chewed-on area usually deterred them. Placing a barrier made from wire grids, sometimes called Neat Idea Cubes, has helped in extreme cases. These square, metal grids, measuring fourteen inches per side, are also handy for making barriers to block off areas where I didn't want bunnies to be.

I've also had rabbits chew holes in my blankets and clothing. Removing them from the bunny's reach or barring them from my bedroom has worked, as has holding down their heads for a few seconds when they try to nibble what I'm wearing. violent punishment doesn't work with rabbits as they assume that they're being attacked. It results in them fearing their punisher rather than being deterred from doing their naughty activities. Distracting them with safe things to chew and dig is a more effective approach.

When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more fascinating 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. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

ANIMAL SHELTER WARNED THE PUBLIC OF BUYING BUNNIES ON A WHIM

In spite of many warnings on the news, parents still buy bunnies for their begging children around easter. Even so, some progress is being made by those of us who have long advocated for proper rabbit care.

In April of 2000, an Edmonton TV station interviewed me regarding this perennial problem. The reporters also went to the city's animal shelter and interviewed the caretakers about the abandoned bunnies they receive each year. I uploaded the clip to YouTube and you can watch it at this link.

I also wrote about the day I was interviewed in my When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) memoir. This is how the interview went.

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One day, I got a call from A-Channel, a television station in Edmonton that was eager for a novel story angle. For the past couple of Easters, I'd been campaigning about the harm in buying rabbits for children. Most of my letters to various radio stations, newspapers, and TV stations had been ignored, until A- Channel called.

A camera crew, consisting of reporter Stacey Brotzel and a man who videotaped my bunnies, arrived at my house the next afternoon. Stacey was surprised when Gideon hopped into his litter box and started eating hay. I'm certain that she had never seen a rabbit use a litter box.

"Look at that!" she exclaimed.

She asked the cameraman, whose name I can't recall, to get a shot of my bunny boy. I felt embarrassed when the poor man tried to step over the cardboard barrier, but didn't quite make it. Fortunately, no damage was done to him or to the camera he carried on his shoulder.

Stacey and the cameraman must have used at least a half hour of tape as they shot Buns doing cute things in his cage and Gideon being his princely self. While they filmed, I straightened the cardboard sheet out and propped it back in the doorway.

When the footage aired during the six o'clock news, there were only thirty seconds of my bunnies and me. There was also a short segment on how the SPCA staff wanted the public to think first before adopting rabbits. A guest doctor explained that when rabbits hit puberty and the novelty wore off, many were returned or dumped outside by disappointed owners.

It didn't take long before the next news story was on and our short TV appearance was over. But thanks to an advertising video which the IGA grocery chain sent to home owners in my area, I was able to record the broadcast and once again watch all those sweet rabbits at the shelter. I was delighted that I had received useful junk mail in my letter box for a change.

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When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more fascinating 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. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

STOP! DON'T BUY THAT BUNNY FOR EASTER!

"We had one, but it died."

These are, perhaps, the saddest words I've ever heard.

Too many parents buy rabbits, especially at Easter, thinking that a bunny will be a good pet for their children. After a few months, the novelty wears off and the poor animal becomes neglected.

Many once-beloved bunnies end up in a backyard hutch where they succumb to disease or heatstroke, or die of fright from predators. Others are dumped in parks or similar open spaces where they become dinner for various carnivores. Those animals who survive the trials of weather, disease and infighting among their own species, cause property owners a lot of grief because rabbits breed rapidly, eat people's prized garden plants and dig up yards.

But these heartbreaking scenarios need never happen.

Many good internet links exist specifically to help people properly care for their bunnies, ensuring that the creatures live long, happy lives. For example, the House Rabbit Society web site has ample resources to help novices with their bunny companions. The alt.pets.rabbits newsgroup is also a good place for information and the group's dedicated bunny-loving folks are more than
happy to share their tips with whoever asks. Then there is the PetBunny e-mail list where no sincere inquiry is considered stupid by its members.

Along with electronic resources, there are books on rabbit care. A book titled House Rabbit Handbook by Marinell Harriman is probably the best on the subject, and well worth reading. I too have made mistakes and been led astray by what popular opinion has said regarding rabbit care. I wrote When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) to counteract the lies and misinformation that is so prevalent in
today's society.

Through recounting my experiences, I hope that readers will learn from my mistakes, as well as my discoveries. If the trend of animal welfare awareness continues, bunnies may eventually be treated as adequately as dogs and cats are today.

When a Man Loves a Rabbit contains many more fascinating 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. You may also e-mail me directly if the comment form doesn't work.

IS ALL CHURCH ATTENDANCE BENEFICIAL?

"How come I have to go to church?" That was the question I perennially asked the supervisors when I was young. In Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind, we were given no choice but to go to the worship Service that they assigned us to. Consequently, I felt no desire to spend Sunday mornings in the basement of Saint Helen's Anglican Church. Apart from the Bible stories and crafts, the whole affair seemed a waste of time.

A few years after giving my life to Christ in 1969, I joined a pseudo-Christian cult. Captivated by the minister's self-proclaimed gift of prophecy, I wanted to learn every secret he had to share with us. I now realize that those teachings were blatant lies and that I would have been better off staying away from that house church.

In my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, I wrote of the time when one member's ambivalent attitude toward the Wednesday evening meetings offended me.

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Though I had temporarily stopped handing out tracts, I remained zealous about attending meetings. Because Jay and Linda's landlord sold the house so a developer could build a walk-up apartment building on the lot, we moved to a house located a few blocks from Thee Church. This was a wonderful boon since I could walk to Sister R's house instead of relying upon my minders for rides. Though I still slept on couch cushions on the floor of a basement bedroom, and the house was infested with bed bugs, being near the sole church with the "complete truth of God" made the sacrifice worthwhile to me.

Being convinced of this, the lack of enthusiasm for Brother H's teaching shown by certain members outraged me. "Aren't you coming to the meeting?" I asked Jay one sunlit Wednesday evening.

"No. You go with out me. I want to watch T.V."

I glared at him and thought, "We live only three blocks away, the weather is beautiful, Brother H is an anointed teacher, and all he can do is sit and watch his precious brand-new black-and-white T.V.?" I stormed out of the front door and strode toward Sister R's house, fuming all the way there. "Please do something about Jay, Lord," I prayed as I walked, "He told me how I should always attend church and now he's watching T.V. Please show him how it's so important to learn from Brother H."

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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.

My previous books are now available for purchase online by clicking here. You can also click here to e-mail me directly as well.

WHERE'S THAT "MARK OF THE BEAST" EH?

Various charismatic sects and misfits throughout the twentieth century have proclaimed the soon arrival of a worldwide government headed by a man who Scripture calls "the beast." Mussolini, Hitler, and even Saddam Hussein were supposed to have been this man of sin but all of them failed to do what various over-excited ministers said they would.

During the seventies, I was under the influence of a so-called prophet and Bible teacher who believed that the implementation of "the mark" was imminent. Like a fool, I believed his bogus prediction without question.

Thirty-five years ago this month, I received a call from my brother, Roy, who was frantic with worry about this prophesied event. Being a bit simple-minded, he took every word he heard literally. Here's an excerpt from How I Was Razed that demonstrates how deceived we were back then.

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An incident in March demonstrated to me once more how foolish I had been to invite Roy to Thee Church. As I finished eating supper in my room, the phone rang.

"I want to go to the rodeo at the Coliseum. Please take me to see it," Roy pleaded.

"What are you asking me for? Can't you find it yourself?"

"I'm afraid I'll get lost. I want to see the rodeo before the mark of the beast comes."

"It's not going to happen right away, Roy. Those tattoo machines are still being tested and the man of sin hasn't been revealed. The great famine hasn't happened yet either. There'll be other rodeos before then. Besides that, it's easy to get to the Coliseum by bus."

"Why can't you take me to the rodeo? I want to go so bad."

"I've got other things to do. You go if you want to see it that badly."

After arguing for a few more minutes, we said good-bye. "I guess he'll have to be sent to the Nahanni Valley city of refuge since he's so dependent on others, I grumbled.

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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.

My previous books are now available for purchase online by clicking here. You may click here to e-mail me directly as well.