WE FOUND CLOVER!
She had not vanished to the field and been ripped apart by coyotes. She had not frozen in a little, frost-bitten hump. My dad found her hopping around back alley, apparently unscathed.
That's insane. I didn't believe we would find her.
YAY!
29.11.09
Clover
I would like to dedicate this post to our rabbit, Clover. She's gone.
Ashamedly but truthfully, I didn't like that bunny very much. She was cute, for sure, when she was a baby ($5 at a petting zoo. Spur of the moment) and she would snuggle into your neck. But she got older and went into heat (with rabbits, it's a permanent heat) and she went crazy with hormones and circled our feet, nipping ankles and rubbing her chin on everything. Apparently, that's "mating behavior" which means she's just goin' crazy for some love. We had discussed setting up a little lovemaking session with one of our friend's rabbits. They have two males, Dexter and Bruce, and their owner LL said that they're gay, actually. We didn't get her fixed 'cause it costs, like, 300 bucks because a rabbit qualifies as an exotic animal. Give me a break. If you've ever been to Calgary, those suckers are not rare nor are they scarcely sighted. Jeez, I saw the fattest jackrabbit in the world amiably hopping around the fricking hospital grounds. Clover lived in a cage mainly, but she would be allowed out to roam the house for certain periods of time. She would pee on everything, usually material, and also drop little turdlets that look like raisins but really aren't. We would also let her out in the backyard, where she would frisk and frolic and hide under the deck or shed for hours so we had to retrieve her in our pajamas at ten thirty in the freezing cold with flashlights. Her various cages that we tried and retried to make took up a lot of room. Clover was a pain.
But now that's she's gone, I feel a weird kind of sadness. Not devastated in the way I was when I lost my cat, Shegwa, whom I received for Christmas when I was six. Not hopeless in the way I was when I lost Lucky, Shegwa's daughter. We have bad luck in our family. It's weird how I didn't like her, because I'm an animal lover. Always. I like cats, dogs, fish, goats, horses, cows, snakes, guinea pigs, lizards, frogs, basically anything that is not a bug. Except I get creeped out by plecostomuses and weird slimy creatures that live in dark places. Or else insects. But anyway, it really makes me sad to think about Clover not being there. Because even when she was annoying, she was still a part of the family, kind of. Also, she always seemed to have kind of a personality. A fiesty one. I can't believe I won't see her again.
Because she was so sweet at times. When we first got her, a tiny, fit-in-a-palm almond-colored thing, who tucked herself into your neck or shoulder and let you hold her on her back like a baby. She had a charming, twitching little nose, and if you held her with her front paws on your shoulder you could hear her sniffing. And sometimes she would lay her soft ears against her nut-brown fur, and sometimes, when she was frisky they would stick straight up, and sometimes one would be up and one would be down, like she was contemplating something. And she was hysterical to watch in the backyard as she streaked pointlessly around the yard, and leapt and twisted in the air, and skidded across the dirt. And how she always wanted a friend, and would cuddle up with our dogs, Shanli and Beckett when they were lying down. It was funny to watch how she always annoyed our other animals. I recall one day she stuck to our cat, Mr. Puddles, tail, never leaving him alone, and he turned and swiped at her and she leapt on him and they wrestled. It ended with Puddles squirmed out from under her and ran away. He got beaten up by a rabbit! It was even kind of cute the way she would circle your feet. Mom looked it up on the Internet, and that means she possesses you or something. You're hers. Clover only really liked Mom, but she was cute.
How she vanished was we put her in the backyard, just like every afternoon. I had gone to my volleyball windup in Saskatoon, so I wasn't there. My aunt and I got home at, like, quarter to eleven, and my mother was anxious because Clover was still in the backyard. It was, of course, pitch black and icy cold, so we had to leave her out for the night. In the morning, she hadn't turned up. We figured she would have tucked herself under the deck or something at night, and in the morning heave her furry, shivering cold butt up onto the porch. But she didn't. And there are two holes in the fence that she could slip through, but never has before. But I guess we couldn't give her the benefit of the doubt. My mom was devastated. She really loved Clover, even though no one else really did.
What makes me most torn up is how she disappeared. It's not like she was a nuisance and we had to sell her to a nice home. It's not even like, if a pet gets sick or hurt and you have to put it to sleep. I hate when animals vanish, it's just so open-ended. Clover wouldn't go wild. She's too domestic. She'd probably just slip out the fence, not smart enough to realize the world doesn't really belong to her. She would hop around, and slowly would realize her mommy wouldn't rescue her. She'd creep around on frost-bitten toes, finally curling up somewhere and try in vain to stay warm. I don't know if she'd slip off to sleep and not wake up, the cold taking her away, frost beading in her fur, or if some cat/dog would get her. I don't like to think about it. It's awful.
I suppose there's a tiny sliver of a chance she'd come home. But it's been twenty-four hours. That's a long time, for a little bunny. She's gone.
And that really, really, sucks.
This is Mom and her bunny, Clover.
Ashamedly but truthfully, I didn't like that bunny very much. She was cute, for sure, when she was a baby ($5 at a petting zoo. Spur of the moment) and she would snuggle into your neck. But she got older and went into heat (with rabbits, it's a permanent heat) and she went crazy with hormones and circled our feet, nipping ankles and rubbing her chin on everything. Apparently, that's "mating behavior" which means she's just goin' crazy for some love. We had discussed setting up a little lovemaking session with one of our friend's rabbits. They have two males, Dexter and Bruce, and their owner LL said that they're gay, actually. We didn't get her fixed 'cause it costs, like, 300 bucks because a rabbit qualifies as an exotic animal. Give me a break. If you've ever been to Calgary, those suckers are not rare nor are they scarcely sighted. Jeez, I saw the fattest jackrabbit in the world amiably hopping around the fricking hospital grounds. Clover lived in a cage mainly, but she would be allowed out to roam the house for certain periods of time. She would pee on everything, usually material, and also drop little turdlets that look like raisins but really aren't. We would also let her out in the backyard, where she would frisk and frolic and hide under the deck or shed for hours so we had to retrieve her in our pajamas at ten thirty in the freezing cold with flashlights. Her various cages that we tried and retried to make took up a lot of room. Clover was a pain.
But now that's she's gone, I feel a weird kind of sadness. Not devastated in the way I was when I lost my cat, Shegwa, whom I received for Christmas when I was six. Not hopeless in the way I was when I lost Lucky, Shegwa's daughter. We have bad luck in our family. It's weird how I didn't like her, because I'm an animal lover. Always. I like cats, dogs, fish, goats, horses, cows, snakes, guinea pigs, lizards, frogs, basically anything that is not a bug. Except I get creeped out by plecostomuses and weird slimy creatures that live in dark places. Or else insects. But anyway, it really makes me sad to think about Clover not being there. Because even when she was annoying, she was still a part of the family, kind of. Also, she always seemed to have kind of a personality. A fiesty one. I can't believe I won't see her again.
Because she was so sweet at times. When we first got her, a tiny, fit-in-a-palm almond-colored thing, who tucked herself into your neck or shoulder and let you hold her on her back like a baby. She had a charming, twitching little nose, and if you held her with her front paws on your shoulder you could hear her sniffing. And sometimes she would lay her soft ears against her nut-brown fur, and sometimes, when she was frisky they would stick straight up, and sometimes one would be up and one would be down, like she was contemplating something. And she was hysterical to watch in the backyard as she streaked pointlessly around the yard, and leapt and twisted in the air, and skidded across the dirt. And how she always wanted a friend, and would cuddle up with our dogs, Shanli and Beckett when they were lying down. It was funny to watch how she always annoyed our other animals. I recall one day she stuck to our cat, Mr. Puddles, tail, never leaving him alone, and he turned and swiped at her and she leapt on him and they wrestled. It ended with Puddles squirmed out from under her and ran away. He got beaten up by a rabbit! It was even kind of cute the way she would circle your feet. Mom looked it up on the Internet, and that means she possesses you or something. You're hers. Clover only really liked Mom, but she was cute.
How she vanished was we put her in the backyard, just like every afternoon. I had gone to my volleyball windup in Saskatoon, so I wasn't there. My aunt and I got home at, like, quarter to eleven, and my mother was anxious because Clover was still in the backyard. It was, of course, pitch black and icy cold, so we had to leave her out for the night. In the morning, she hadn't turned up. We figured she would have tucked herself under the deck or something at night, and in the morning heave her furry, shivering cold butt up onto the porch. But she didn't. And there are two holes in the fence that she could slip through, but never has before. But I guess we couldn't give her the benefit of the doubt. My mom was devastated. She really loved Clover, even though no one else really did.
What makes me most torn up is how she disappeared. It's not like she was a nuisance and we had to sell her to a nice home. It's not even like, if a pet gets sick or hurt and you have to put it to sleep. I hate when animals vanish, it's just so open-ended. Clover wouldn't go wild. She's too domestic. She'd probably just slip out the fence, not smart enough to realize the world doesn't really belong to her. She would hop around, and slowly would realize her mommy wouldn't rescue her. She'd creep around on frost-bitten toes, finally curling up somewhere and try in vain to stay warm. I don't know if she'd slip off to sleep and not wake up, the cold taking her away, frost beading in her fur, or if some cat/dog would get her. I don't like to think about it. It's awful.
I suppose there's a tiny sliver of a chance she'd come home. But it's been twenty-four hours. That's a long time, for a little bunny. She's gone.
And that really, really, sucks.
This is Mom and her bunny, Clover.
I feel kind of bad posting about how terrible it is that our bunny is gone when more serious things go on. My aunt, grandma, and cousin are all visiting for the weekend. My auntie Lesley lost a child in September, Kane. Fourteen month old baby. That's truly horrible. She is still dealing with it, as is my uncle Jordan and cousin Mathew.
I don't know what to hope for, with Clover, though. Do I hope for her to come home? Find somewhere warm, and scavenge for a little while? Have a quick painless death? There's nothing to do but say goodbye. Just like I had to say to Kane, too early.
Bye, Clover. We love you.
15.11.09
110th Post
I really have nothing to say. I just haven't posted in a while.
NaNo count=14552 words. Not bad. Better than last year's: 6075. When all was said and done.
Anyways, I sent my first NaNo mail to Stephanie Perkins. And she sent me MY first message. And I replied to her. ALSO my first reply!!
So many firsts. I haven't been getting much sleep. I write best at night. So I tell myself. I have a bad habit of coming home from school, lazing here and there, eating and reading...making supper...homework...activities, sometimes, in there...then it's ten thirty and I need to write still. Oops.
I went to my first 4H meeting today. Light Horse. We're moving to an acreage! Yay! It will be fun. I've always wanted a horse.
I want to post my photography! I have quite a few decent photos now. I like to edit, especially. I'm not so much for raw photos of nature. I like editing. Playing with color, focal black and white, soften around the edges. Fun.
I made peanut butter cookies.
Emilee added this in a comment on Kiersten White's blog. I chuckled.
Do, it's what buys the beer
Ray, the guy that serves the beer,
Me, the one who drinks the beer,
Fa, a long long way to get the beer,
So, I'll have another beer,
La, just give me another beer,
Ti, no, I'll have another beer,
That brings us back to do do do do dooooo, you do have more beer money, right?
HA HA. Sound of Music... Maria the alcoholic. Who is also a nun. How does that work?
Horses and writing and beer and cookies. My life, as of this moment.
NaNo count=14552 words. Not bad. Better than last year's: 6075. When all was said and done.
Anyways, I sent my first NaNo mail to Stephanie Perkins. And she sent me MY first message. And I replied to her. ALSO my first reply!!
So many firsts. I haven't been getting much sleep. I write best at night. So I tell myself. I have a bad habit of coming home from school, lazing here and there, eating and reading...making supper...homework...activities, sometimes, in there...then it's ten thirty and I need to write still. Oops.
I went to my first 4H meeting today. Light Horse. We're moving to an acreage! Yay! It will be fun. I've always wanted a horse.
I want to post my photography! I have quite a few decent photos now. I like to edit, especially. I'm not so much for raw photos of nature. I like editing. Playing with color, focal black and white, soften around the edges. Fun.
I made peanut butter cookies.
Emilee added this in a comment on Kiersten White's blog. I chuckled.
Do, it's what buys the beer
Ray, the guy that serves the beer,
Me, the one who drinks the beer,
Fa, a long long way to get the beer,
So, I'll have another beer,
La, just give me another beer,
Ti, no, I'll have another beer,
That brings us back to do do do do dooooo, you do have more beer money, right?
HA HA. Sound of Music... Maria the alcoholic. Who is also a nun. How does that work?
Horses and writing and beer and cookies. My life, as of this moment.
3.11.09
Recent Bulletins
Extra! Extra! Please note that in the past...er...amount of time that jckandy has last posted, she has accomplished the following:
- doubled her NaNoWriMo word count (2050 to 4635. In 24 hours. If I can double that tomorrow, how long will it take me to complete my novel?)
- Received a 92 average for her report card. (I also got 100 average in French and Computers...didn't see that one coming. 94 in ELA, as well.)
- Played a cruddy game of volleyball. (That I played. I mostly sat on the bench, which was lame, mainly because I am in grade eight and a younger team player, and conveniently the only extra middle.)
- Acquired a tall stack of reading material from her father's classroom. (In them includes plays and Stephen King novels.)
- Went to band. (Enough said.)
- ...
ATTENTION! jckandy is OFFICIALLY tired of writing about herself in third person!
Really, I am. It's tiring.
I just read this truly hysterical quote on Laini Taylor's blog post. It made me chuckle.
"Cats aren't clean. They're just covered in cat spit."
HA HA HA HA HA! I hate when people write ha ha ha ha ha ha over the 'net. It seems so fake. It has no ring of real laughter. It's horrible.
HA HA HA HA.
I hate myself.
Anyways, I fer-shizz let out a chuckle when I read that quote. A real chuckle! It just doesn't seem real.
I'm happy right now. I'm listening to Journey. How can one not be happy when listening to "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey?
Answer: Hitler.
I decided to break from Miriam's Isle. Even though I didn't really work on it much. I'm writing Clarabelle right now. It's surprisingly easy to spew forth my ideas. I think it's because I've had these plans cooking inside of me for so long, they're all pent-up with no place to flow. Now they're flowing. And I haven't even got to the middle, where the juicy stuff happens. However, it's taken me 2 days to write 16 pages. I basically doubled the writing I had. It was kind of a rude awakening, how time-consuming it is to actually, physically, SQUEEZE out the words and type them on the page and punctuate, page by page by page. It really shouldn't be a shock.
Don't stop, believin', hold on to that feelin! Street lights, people...
MY SONG IS OVER. I think I'll go cry.
1.11.09
NaNoWriMo
National Novel Writing Month. (see, NAtionalNOvelWRItingMOnth. It's clever.)
I know, technically, you should be taking a fresh idea and taking a nice month to splurt it all out and be left with a full, crappy, ugly manuscript. I will be, as of now, taking a break from mermaids and moving on to vampires. I know, vampires are kind of lame now. I feel they're on their way out. If only I had completed Clarabelle before. A year earlier. It would have published, with the vampire wave. But I didn't. Anyways, it's different. It's a different age group. A different story. With a Twilight analogy, more like Alice's and Bella's relationship. Not a romantic one.
Last night I went to a Halloween party. It was fairly tame. We watched Children of the Corn. It was strange and twisted. A bunch of Jesus freaks in a warped cult, led by this nine year old prophet kill all adult sinners. I liked it, though. It's like, my first horror movie.
Happy Halloween.
I know, technically, you should be taking a fresh idea and taking a nice month to splurt it all out and be left with a full, crappy, ugly manuscript. I will be, as of now, taking a break from mermaids and moving on to vampires. I know, vampires are kind of lame now. I feel they're on their way out. If only I had completed Clarabelle before. A year earlier. It would have published, with the vampire wave. But I didn't. Anyways, it's different. It's a different age group. A different story. With a Twilight analogy, more like Alice's and Bella's relationship. Not a romantic one.
Last night I went to a Halloween party. It was fairly tame. We watched Children of the Corn. It was strange and twisted. A bunch of Jesus freaks in a warped cult, led by this nine year old prophet kill all adult sinners. I liked it, though. It's like, my first horror movie.
Happy Halloween.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)