Mine.

Let’s get a little emotional, shall we?

This week has been a bit of a scary one, although not as scary as some things are. My pet dwarf rabbit Doomsday has been a little off. She’s turning 6 soon and as she gets older things are going to start happening to her body that I don’t like. (And I’m sure she’s not a fan of it either.) She already has some cysts in her chest that we get drained about every two months now, and our last trip to the vet proved terrifying as they found a giant lump on her knee that I hadn’t seen before, I don’t examine her entire body, but I will now regularly since it was incredibly shocking to have to be called back into a room with three people holding her teeny tiny body and one pointing at it like ‘What?’ In truth, I could barely look at it because it freaked me out. I nearly puked and she didn’t look too thrilled about it either. But that could’ve just be because she was being stretched out at full length and she only likes that when there is sunshine to be laid in. All I could say was ‘WHAT IS THAT?!” and cover my mouth before I spewed on the floor.

This at least explained why she had been burrowing into my scarf and sweater when we were waiting. Her heart was going a mile a minute and she was shaking. She’s a Nervous Nelly, but I’ve never seen her act like that before. Something was hurting her and I didn’t notice.

I’ll tell you right now, for the moment she is okay. The vet told me yesterday that it’s a tumour, but it’s benign and can be removed and she won’t have a trouble in the world besides her visits for her cysts. As it is, she’s hopping around, limping a little, but otherwise seemingly happy. (Who wouldn’t be on pain killers?)

The reason I’m telling you this is because it actually really troubles my heart. I consider myself a good person and an animal lover, so when something like that happens to my teeny tiny soul mate, I’m really saddened and heartbroken that I missed it in the first place.

When I first bought Doomsday it didn’t feel like I bought her. It felt like I met her. I had found a little piece of my soul in a pet store. Who knew?

I’ve had this happen to me a few times, when I meet another part of my soul, whether it be animal or human, I know when I’ve met it. Soul mates aren’t just your one true love, they are in friendships and other kinds of loves too. (Although when it comes to romantic love you can see where I’ve had problems keeping boys around when I knew they weren’t part of my soul. Papa don’t play those games.)

I distinctly remember pointing at her in the store and saying “I’d like to see him please.” (I was dead set on getting a rabbit  and naming it Clark Kent.) The girl said, “I believe that’s actually a girl.” Admittedly, I was disappointed for about 5.6 seconds before she put that teeny tiny bundle into my hands and I brought her to my chest. Doomsday immediately pressed her face into my neck and .03 seconds went by before I said ‘Mine.’

This happened with my dog Envy, although she was remiss to give in to my love at first. Age 12 and I had met my first animal soul mate. Age 21 I met Doomsday. And age 23ish, I met Dexter. A third. Do you know what it’s like to have a puppy run towards you from a barn and straight into your arms? Because if you don’t, damn, you are missing out. I picked that labradoodle up and she, too, snuggled into my collarbone and my heart said ‘Mine.’

Doomsday on the other hand, was the first pet that was really and truly, only mine. I didn’t have to share her with anyone, but I did since I lived with five other girls at the time and we cooed over her like she was a new baby. I started second semester with her at my side and we haven’t looked back. While I studied she hopped around me chewing at my books, or sitting on my butt while I wrote notes on my stomach. We would snuggle while watching Supernatural in the living room when I was sick. Chase each other in the hallway because it was a circle. And continuously rub noses. (She loves this in particular, something about their moms doing it to them.)

Little noodle rubs her face on me to claim that I’m hers too. In fact I’ve almost crushed her over a dozen times because the idjit doesn’t know to not do that while I’m walking.

When I moved into my first apartment she came with me, happily doing her super jump in the air every thirty seconds because she was out of her cage 24/7 and we had wall to wall carpeting. (She hates being on wood or tiles.) I would come home from work drinking slushies and laying on the couch with a fan on me and she would be sprawled out right in front of the fan getting cool too as we watched Magnum P.I. (It sounds like I’m dating myself, but really my mom owns them on DVD and I love Tom Selleck. Doomsday prefers watching Buffy.)

We’ve lived together for 6 years. One of my longest relationships is with a rabbit. Go figure.

I’ll leave you with this: When I was in the veterinary office a woman was sitting beside me with her cat and the vet technician said something along the lines of ‘How is so and so and her mommy today?” the lady immediately said ‘I don’t do that ‘mommy’ business. I’m her guardian.”

Now isn’t that the most beautiful word for what we are? I’ve struggled for years to figure out what I am to her. I’ve always hated when someone called me her ‘mom’ because that’s not the right word and I knew it. Friend seemed a little obvious, but also wrong. Sister wasn’t right since I consider us to be a high caliber of friendship. Sure, she pisses me off sometimes, I piss her off, we play, I laugh, she twitches, gooses me every once in awhile, and in general is a pal.

I’m going to protect her from what I can and shield her from the worst because there are two words that describe what that teeny tiny rabbit is to me and I’m to her:

Mine. Guardian.