It seems as if I only post anymore when I am bugging the fuck out, and I think it seems that way because it is true, but OH HEY I AM BUGGING THE FUCK OUT.
Have you ever heard of this certain type of disease or pathology wherein a person tries very hard to take care of something and ends up maiming or killing it? I think the guy from Of Mice And Men had it and I know I read a noir book based on this very thing not too long ago. I'm starting to wonder if I have this. I know that I really love animals - I've spent a lifetime picking up stray dogs and coddling any pet that stumbles across my path, and I haven't eaten any animals for six years for the sole reason that they are nice and deserve to be happy, but my own pets...
I'm gonna start over.
Greta is in trouble. The trouble is bad, but it's not as bad as it could be. She has glaucoma. Glaucoma is pressure on the eyeball. It's not life-threatening, not immediately anyway, but it's also not curable. She is now blind in that eye and no amount of wishing it were otherwise on my part can reverse that, apparently. If it goes untreated, it can cause pain and the eye could even explode. She has always been in perfect health. The glaucoma was brought on by trauma of being bitten on the eye by the other rabbit a few months ago.
This was, you see, completely avoidable. Negligence, and I have blinded and maimed my otherwise perfect little bunny. Do you know they may have to remove the eye if medicine doesn't work? Now this issue is not immediately life-threatening (as I believed it was initially, based on the vet I saw first thing in the morning yesterday who apparently purchased her DVM on sale at Sam's Club, and who was basically like YEP SHE'S PROBABLY GOING TO DIE) but it is still a sentence. She still has to deal with something awful. And she is just not the same bunny she used to be. I know her well, and she's not happy. She's bummed out. Is she ever going to go back to happy? With the binkying and the tearing at breakneck speed all over the apartment? The thought of her just being depressed with her one eye forever is breaking my heart. Yeah, yeah, it's just a bunny and yeah, yeah, I didn't do it on purpose. But it happened under my watch and would not have happened otherwise. I still hurt her. I still took something away from her.
And it's not like this is the only bad thing that's happened. My track record sucks. Ned got panleukopenia at 8 weeks old and nearly died because I was too stupid to think "hey maybe boarding an 8-week old unvaccinated kitten and exposing him to feral cats isn't a stellar idea." And then there was Fitz. Oh god I can't even read those old entries. You were all so sweet back then, all "You did the best you could, you gave him a great home," and those were nice thoughts, and the truth is... my home killed him. He'd still be alive pigeon-trilling it up happily in some NYC apartment, climbing high bookshelves and running around like a madman, if he hadn't won the evil lottery and come to live here. It is more than I can stand.
Artie's doing okay. So far.
Greta's so pretty. I had such a pretty, perfect little girl, and I have hurt her.
I'm also out of money now, thanks to vet costs being so exorbitant as to be ridiculous. We all know this is true, you pay like $100 just for walking in the room, and yet somehow I manage to be surprised anew by it every time. I don't know. I'm basically so catastrophically fucked that it's almost awesome. I'm totally going to become one of those people who has to choose between eating and buying her rabbit's glaucoma medicine.
(I make jokes because I do not know what else to do.)
(I'm going to go buy that medicine now.)