Daisy Cruise and I have worked with the Ventura County Animal Shelter rabbits (the “Bunny Brigade”) every Friday from 3-8pm for the past 2 ½ years. With all the experience gained and lessons learned, I’ve decided to create this blog to discuss events that have occurred during our time volunteering and the facts of life that I have had to learn in order to cope with the ins and outs of rabbit care. This blog is meant to educate the public on the subject of working with shelter rabbits and the common misconceptions that people have about them. It is taxing work being responsible for so many lives, but the results are more than enough reward. The stories that I relay in this blog are ones that I feel are important for the public to know and will hopefully reach as many people as possible.
Several times I have paid to spay and neuter rabbits out of my own pocket so that they might be adopted. I strongly believe in the benefits of sterilization for rabbits and other domesticated animals as an improvement to their quality of life. Working at a shelter that is responsible for housing all of the homeless animals in the entire county, I have witnessed the effects of pet overpopulation first hand. In the case of rabbits, over population happens fast and is very hard to contain. Rabbits do not have a resting period between pregnancies. A female may give birth and become impregnated within the same hour; rabbits are able to have babies every 30 days with up to 8 in each litter. On average, the Ventura County Animal Shelter is home to at least 45 rabbits and at the time of this blog entry, the shelter is currently over capacity, with 62 rabbits in total. That number wouldn’t be nearly as large if their previous owners had realized the need to take their rabbits to be fixed.
I had been a volunteer for about two months when I first witnessed the consequences of not spaying or neutering a rabbit. I received a phone call as I drove up Pacific Coast Highway: the shelter had received fifteen Californian rabbits and needed extra help. I reset my course for the shelter, and indeed fifteen brown nosed, red eyed bunnies were anxiously tripping about their cages. Apparently, someone from the Ventura County Fair had bought two rabbits and, about two months later, found themselves with thirteen more. There was one rabbit who stood out among that particular crowd.
Brutus was a mess when I first saw him. He was the biggest of all his kin and was soaked in urine because he had been brought in with another male, Nico, who instigated violent fights. Hormones are strong in unfixed rabbits and can lead to copious behavioral issues, many of which sterilization can circumvent. I separated the two, but Brutus was already badly scarred across his nose. When I took Brutus out of the cage and began to brush his matted, urine stained fur, I fell in love. He was such a gentle giant who never complained and seemed content just being close to me. I decided to pay the $50 required as a deposit for neutering. As a result of being neutered, he was adopted by a lovely family in whose household he would be the only rabbit—plus a dog and cat companion! These knowledgeable adopters specifically asked for a neutered rabbit. They knew, as do I, the benefits to spaying and neutering animal companions.
On occasion, a rabbit will arrive at the shelter and need help outside of what the shelter can do. Snufflelufflegus was just such a case. He arrived in the middle of June with respiratory problems and a prominent bulge on his leg. Daisy and I stepped in to take him to her own house and set up a large cage for his comfort. Each night I would fall asleep and he’d be at my bedside struggling to breath. I would place him on the bed and pet him, something he couldn’t get enough of.
The next day we took him to a vet outside of the shelter, where we felt Snufflelufflegus would receive the best care. There, Dr. Fowell discovered that the bulge on the rabbit’s leg was a tumor, and that the only treatment would be amputation. She estimated that it would cost $1,300 for the surgery—a steep price for anyone, let alone a county-run shelter and volunteer group that relied on donations. We simply couldn’t afford it. A chance surfaced when a fellow rabbit volunteer told Daisy about Crowdtilt, a website where people donated money to different causes. We immediately started a campaign. We raised the money within a month and Crowdtilt didn’t even charge the usual tax for the money raised for Snufflelufflegus’ surgery. Everything was going smoothly.
Then it wasn’t; his breathing wasn’t improving. It seemed to be getting worse, despite the treatments prescribed by the vet. He was losing weight. On the last day of the campaign, Daisy and I took Snufflelufflegus to see Dr. Fowell again, who decided to perform an x-ray of his chest. After waiting 15 minutes, a vet tech led us to a different room to view the x-rays. On the screen, the vet pointed out several patches of pure white scattered across Snufflelufflegus’s lungs. “Cancer,” she said. What we had thought to be a sinus infection a month ago had in fact been the tumor spreading to his lungs. With my heart seemingly lodged in my throat, I looked to Daisy and I decided that putting our fluffy guy to sleep would be best. He was put under anesthesia and given to Daisy to hold in a towel one last time and then he died quietly, quickly, and with dignity. His eyes were open the whole time and had an expression that suggested life, where we knew there wasn’t. I wanted to take him home—to have him not be gone—but I knew that he had been suffering and I couldn’t let that continue. It was difficult to acknowledge that only the night before I had voiced the idea of adopting him once I was financially secure and had graduated from college. Our life felt like it was just starting together, but it turned out his was ending and we were privileged to be in his life for as long as Daisy and I were.
Crowdtilt gave us the donations even after we told them of Snufflelufflegus’s passing. We are extremely grateful.
