A New Wascally Habit

The vegan pledge I was volunteering with ended a few weeks ago but before its close, the president of the group and a good friend of mine asked if I was interested in fostering or adopting rabbits.  My friend helps a rescue group, Rat Chick Rescue.  This group rescues rats and other rodents from certain doom since these pets are even more likely to be killed at shelters then homeless cats and dogs.

Since becoming involved as a vegan activist, I have had a lot more contact with people who spend many of their free hours helping animals whose lives have been put on the line by human carelessness.  I've never been generous with my time in this way.  Although I know that veganism addresses the most fundamental problem with speciesism and animal rights, I still don't feel I am doing enough when I think of all the millions of animals who are waiting in shelters or being killed in shelters because their is not enough room for them.

Long story short (too late), I am now living with a pair of rabbits.  Their are delightful, funny animals to live with.  I call them Wayne and Garth.  I distinguish them by one of them (Wayne) having one black paw, though Garth has more of Wayne Campbell's personality traits, I didn't know them as well when I settled on names.  Garth is more outgoing, rambunctious, and easier to pet.  He also like to dominate poor little Wayne.  Wayne is more laid back and more curious about things.

Every night, I get home from work around 10:45 pm.  I come in the door of my apartment, walk up the stairs, and open my bedroom door where the bunnies are anxious for their nightly treat.  I always give them a fresh vegetable when I get home from work.  As a vegan, and as a vegan working at a grocery store, I spend a great deal of my time worrying about the suffering and death of animals.  When I ring up meat, particularly whole chickens and hens (I think because the whole corpse is there in the case of chickens and hens), I always feel deeply, deeply sad when I put the body in the bag.  I often think to myself, "I was too late for this one."  I feel as though I am putting a body in plastic grave.  I mentally say things like, "Bye chicken.  I'm sorry.  Poor chicken."  I think of the footage I've seen and the accounts I've read about slaughterhouses and "farms".  The customer has no idea how upset they've made me by this ordinary purchase.

So, to come home to two relatively happy animals gives me a kind of peace and happiness that is hard to describe but is beautiful to feel.

I am happy to be Wayne and Garth's foster guardian but I must find them a new home soon in order to help a certain deserving cat in need.