Then All was Gone . . .
It’s hard to describe the extent of the devastation right now – both that of the land in the wake of the flames and that which we’re feeling right now as the images and stories come to hand. I rang my parents this afternoon and the whole family were despondent: my sister in tears, Mum on the verge of them, and Dad sounding very flat and depressed. They’re donating their caravan to the homeless, and Dad’s four-wheel drive club will probably assist with recovery and rebuilding over the next year, but for us here in Melbourne there’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and grief. And while my heart goes out to everyone affected – human or animal – seeing Marysville razed just broke my heart.
You might remember I posted about going for a drive to Marysville a few months ago and visiting Bruno’s Art and Sculpture Garden. I’ve heard reports today that it is now, like the rest of the town, gone. I can only hope Bruno and his family are safe and in time they can rebuild again, but if anyone has any photos from Marysville or any of the places now razed, I urge you to put them up on the web so they’ll never be forgotten. Seeing the blacken, sparse trunks flashed across the news, you could almost forget the dense, flourishing cold-climate rainforest that once stood there and with the climate getting warmer and drier here in Victoria, what grows back may never be the same.
So in this spirit, here are my photos from Bruno’s place again. They were only taken with my phone camera, but hopefully they will give you some idea of what a magical place it was.
Victoria’s Burning . . .
Photo courtesy of The Age
Big news here – we’ve had record breaking heat and fire conditions today and half the state is on fire. There have been fourteen confirmed fatalities so far and they’re saying it could go as high as forty. The temperature has dropped considerably from the 46.4ºC (114.8ºF) we got earlier but the wind is still crazy so conditions are still volatile with so many fire fronts across the state. My heart goes out to all those who’ve lost, to the wildlife who’ve suffered and the livestock destroyed, and my hat goes off to all the firies doing it tough out there – sure, we live in a country where bushfires are natural, but there is nothing natural about the conditions out there and without their efforts things could be far, far worse.
DSE fire map here and CFA updates here.
Offers for assistance can be made here or here, or consider donating to Wildlife Victoria or WSPA’s emergency funds.
R.I.P. Rubi – 2003 – 6/11/2008
Anyone following my NaNo wordcount might have noticed a sharp halt in my progress: today I lost a very dear friend, one who may never have spoken to me, may have resent all the hugs I gave him and one who gave the impression he was only pleased to see me when food was involved, but he was a very dear, close friend nonetheless. I don’t mention my family very often on this blog, but anyone who knows me knows I love my animal friends fiercely and tonight my gorgeous bunny Rubi passed away suddenly.
Sleep well, little guy
Rubi was adorable personified. A Himalayan Dwarf, he was tiny, white dwarf bunny with all the cute bits highlighted – the ears, the nose, the feet and the tail. I had adopted him along with his sister/bond mate Kyoko (who we sadly lost November 2006) with my old housemate and when we moved into our own places last year, Rubi came with me. As he was abandoned as a young rabbit, we were never sure of his age and he was very, very shy at first. It took a lot of patience and treats to win his trust and in the past year living with me he seemed to have matured and mellowed a lot. Being a desexed little boy, he was immaculately clean and always had to have everything the way it should be – just last night he was getting upset because I’d left some papers in his way, and he was lifting them up and shoving them out of his path with surly indignation.
He wasn’t affectionate like some bunnies, but he did like headrubs and he knew when he wanted company. If I was at my computer, he’d often sit just by my door on the mat in that comfortable rabbit-loaf shape, turned slightly towards me. If I was watching TV he’d often come and sit just below the screen so he could gaze upon me and I upon him (I never told him I was really watching TV: gazing upon other bunnies is a big part of social etiquette in rabbit-language). Sometimes I’d just lay on the floor and he’d hop up to me and sniff my nose or follow my fingers spidering around on the carpet to get his attention. In the mornings, he’d follow me right to the edge of the kitchenette, desperate for some muesli, craning his little head with those big, round “gimme-gimme-gimme” eyes. And you’ve never seen so much excitement when the craisin bag was rattled. He’d come running, rising up on his back legs with that desperate-starving-child expression as if it was the most amazing thing ever and nothing was sweeter than when he finally got one.
Sure, he wasn’t a cat or a dog, and he was way quieter than my birds, but he had his own personality and his own way of telling you what he wanted and didn’t want. Anyone who doesn’t think that rabbits have facial expressions never lived with bunnies. But sadly with bunnies, as with most small animals, they never really want to tell you when something is really very wrong. I changed his hutch last night, and when I woke up I noticed it was still pretty clean. He was laying in the sunshine behind the front door, something he does often, so I wasn’t so concerned and went about my business. By four o’clock I noticed he hadn’t been back to his hutch for a while and while he was still hopping about quite normally, he was lying down and pushing his belly to the ground: that is also not so unusual as he tends to get a bit gassy (TMI, I know) and it usually passes after a little while. By late afternoon I realised something was very, very wrong. He hadn’t eaten or toileted for some time, and he was now lying with his front paws splayed wide and he wasn’t struggling when I held him (he only tolerated being held for a minute before he’d start craning his neck for ways to get away). I plied him with treats, put him up in his hutch with his food and a shallow dish of water: he refused the food but drank heartily. Drinking was a good sign, or so I thought, and he was cleaning himself and moving around so I decided to go to the supermarket and bought some cranberry juice and loads of his favourite greens to try and settle whatever was bothering him.
No luck. By later in the evening I realised no, he really, really wasn’t well. It had now been many hours since I last saw him eat and no toilet action had happened (with bunnies, they need to eat and poo frequently as they have a constantly moving digestive system). He was struggling to keep his head up at all, his eyes were half-closed and the whites blood-shot and although he could still hop about fine he was reluctant to do so and was looking really limp. I made a paste of water, pellets and the cranberry juice and syringe fed him but by 10 o’clock he was refusing that too, letting the mixture dribble down his chin. Within half an hour he was struggling to use his legs and he was all droopy and I knew I was going to lose him.
I sat with him on my lap (something he would never tolerate), stroking him and talking to him through two movies before he finally died, his condition slowly and constantly getting worse. By quarter to two he had gone into convulsions and although thankfully he didn’t scream the rabbit death-scream – it may sound like a funny concept, but it truly is one of the most horrible sounds you will ever hear – he did gargle and squeak and it took him quiet a while to actually pass, all the while I was stroking him and talking to him as he died (and bawling my eyes out). For such a little bunny, he fought all the way until the end and considering his condition before midnight I was surprised he pulled through for so long.
Although it hurts so much to have lost him, in a way I’m glad I got to have so much time with him tonight: although he wasn’t really aware of it, I hope my being there with him was of some comfort and I know he knew he was loved. I was at work when my budgie Pippin died in 2006 and only just made it home before Kyoko passed away so I was glad that I was actually there with him in the end. In a way I feel like I should have taken him to the vet instead of going to the supermarket at 5:30 but I suspect it might not have changed things all that much: whatever was bothering him was bothering him before he finally let on and I had no chance of acting quick enough.
So goodbye Rubi, my beautiful little bunny-boy. I’m going to miss you so, so much and I’m so sorry it had to be this way. You were too young to die and life will never be the same without your company.
Snuggling with Kyoko 2004
Peek-a-Boo!
Yay! I'm jumping on your bed at 6am on a Sunday!
*sigh* So cute, he shoulda been illegal . . .
